


Angel, Monster, Man

by CenturyUnited



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Phantom of the Opera (2004), Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2018-10-15 00:18:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 34,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10546814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CenturyUnited/pseuds/CenturyUnited
Summary: During her first years at the Opera Populaire, little Christine does not realize who her angel of music truly is.  When the infamous Phantom of the Opera reveals himself to her as a man, she is shocked to find that she not only feels attracted to him but that she may also harbor feelings that go beyond a mentor-mentee relationship.





	1. Moving to Paris

Up until this point in her 7 years of life, Christine Daae had never felt such terrible sorrow. Her best friend, teacher, and confidante was taken from her, and she was beside herself with anguish. Christine’s father, Gustave Daae, was the best man the little girl had ever known. He was kind, patient, talented, and Christine always felt warm and safe in his presence. Not to mention he loved playing with his darling daughter. They spent their days embarking on imagined adventures and laughing with each other. Christine missed him more than she could express, and she sincerely didn’t think she’d ever get over the profound loss she was experiencing.

The days right after his passing had been especially difficult for Christine. Her father had been the only person she’d had in her life up to that point—he was her world. Where would she go now that he was gone? What would happen to her? As a 7 year old, she didn’t quite understand what was to follow, and everything was mostly out of her hands.

The day of her father’s funeral was a day she’d never forget. The occasion was beautiful in its own melancholic way, and she was slightly relieved to be in the company of other people. She wept unabashedly in front of all of them and was showered with kindness and sympathy.

Madame Giry had seen Christine crying in a chair, sitting all by herself, and she felt her heart swell with compassion. The little brown-haired girl was only 3 when her father had first introduced them, and it pained the french woman to see such a young soul so clearly heartbroken. In that moment, she was reminded of her own little Meg and was instantly overwhelmed with the necessity to comfort the disconsolate child. Gustave had requested that she take care of his daughter should anything ever happen to him, and she now knew what she had to do.

“Christine?” Madame Giry made an effort to be as gentle in her speech as possible.

Christine, thankfully, was not startled by the noise and slowly turned around to face the person addressing her. Her body was still shaking from her sobs.

“Do you remember me? Your father was a very dear friend of mine, and I had the pleasure of meeting you a few times.” The older woman earnestly hoped that Christine would remember her. It would make what was to come next so much easier for the little girl, and she didn’t want her to be faced with any more strife.

“Madame Giry?” Christine’s voice was choppy as she tried to recover from the crying.

“Yes, my sweet girl. How are you feeling? Can I get you anything?”

Christine shook her head in response, then proceeded to ever so softly reply. “I’m so sad. I miss my papa so much. He was my favorite person.”

Madame Giry was relieved to find that the girl remembered who she was and decided that she would sit and accompany her until the service was over. Christine seemed comforted by her presence, and they sat in silence until everybody left. Once they were alone, Madame Giry took the time to gently explain to Christine that she was going to move to a brand new place and that she was now going to be under her care. Madame Giry understood that Sweden was much different than her own home in Paris, but she knew that taking Christine back with her was the only option. She only hoped that she would see her dear friend’s daughter flourish there.

§ § § § § § § § § § § § §

Christine was still crestfallen when they first arrived in Paris, but thankfully, seemed to be taken with the change in scenery. To Madame Giry’s delight, her and Meg became fast friends. Christine’s blue moods seemed to brighten every time the two of them were together, and it was not long before Christine was almost back to being her normal, sweet, playful self.

Seeing as Madame Giry was the ballet instructor at the famous Opera Populaire, it was only natural that her young daughter be known as one of the best dancers in her class. When Madame brought Christine back to Paris with her, she placed her in the corps de ballet with her daughter in hopes that it could give the child something with which to occupy her time. Christine thrived as she began dancing with Meg at the renowned opera house. Not only was she beginning to become decent at the art, but she thoroughly enjoyed spending so much time with her dearest friend.

Of course, Christine still missed her father and regularly went down to the opera’s old, dusty chapel to light a candle for him. Sometimes she fancied she could hear him talking to her, and it was something she took great comfort in. Oh, how she wished she could hear him play his violin again. Being surrounded by music at the Opera Populaire was a constant reminder of her father. He had been, after all, one of the best violinists in Europe.

One night after a tiring day, young Christine went down to light a candle for her father. It had been a day during which she acutely felt the loss of his comforting presence.

“I miss you, papa... Why did you leave me?” Christine’s eyes were beginning to fill with tears, and her voice began to tremble. “You told me you'd send me an angel when you died… Where is he? Did you lie to me? Oh, how I miss your laughter and warmth.”

Christine let herself cry, then proceeded to quietly hum in order to calm her nerves. She had been feeling better, partially because she had firmly believed that her father would always somehow be with her, but as time went on, and her promised angel didn’t appear, her fragile happiness had once again begun to fade.

That is until, suddenly, the most beautiful voice she had ever heard filled her ears with the sound of her name.

“ _Christine, Christine…_ ”


	2. Angel of Music

That was where it all began. Erik had been wandering the secret corridors of the opera house, when he was brought to the chapel by the sounds of sobbing. Upon his arrival, he was met with the sight of a little girl, no older than 8, with big brown curls, a pale complexion, and tears running down her face. He was stricken with grief at seeing such a young person feeling so distraught. He sympathized with her, having spent many nights crying alone when he himself was but a boy. He had lived through a terribly cold and cruel upbringing.

Erik was ripped from his dark memories at the sound of the little Daaé humming to herself. It was the sweetest of sounds, and Erik was instantly entranced. He had to reach out to this child somehow, he could not help himself. So, he sang.

At the sound of her name being sung by a hauntingly beautiful voice, Christine jerked her head up. She couldn't believe her ears. He was here, her Angel of Music was finally here!

“Angel of Music? Is that you?” Christine sounded eager, almost desperate for a response.

Erik was taken by surprise. He couldn't believe that he actually sang to her in the first place, and now he felt he couldn’t disappoint such a fragile, innocent child who so desperately wished for him to be something he wasn't. The infamous opera ghost was left with no choice but to play a wholly different role.

“Yes, my child.”

§ § § § § § § § § § § § §

After that, Christine went to the chapel everyday. Erik began to teach her to sing, and soon her voice became a kind of obsession. It was purity and innocence, a light in his world of pure, consuming darkness.

He couldn't remember anyone ever having been as kind to him as Christine always was. She was sweetness incarnate, and she quickly became very dear to him. Not to mention, he loved the kind of power he held over her, though he would never admit it. She obeyed his every word without question.

Erik lived for the lessons with the little Daaé girl—too long had he been trapped in a world of isolation and desolation. He was initially uncomfortable with playing the role of a holy angel, seeing as he spent his entire life believing he was the Devil’s child, but he slowly allowed himself to fall into the easy role. He rather enjoyed being treated as a divine being, as opposed to a freak of nature, a monster, a thing. Nevertheless, the knowledge that her affections were a farce pained him, and he knew that he could never reveal himself to Christine. His face would scar her, and he was determined to never be the source of any harm or distress.

Since he was born, Erik was treated as subhuman. His own mother couldn't stand the sight of him, and he was taught early on to hide his hideous face from the world. Nothing but cruelty came from it, and he loathed his appearance with his entire being. He had learned at a young age that no one could ever love such a horrible beast, and indeed no one ever had.

Of course, Erik knew he was an extremely intelligent man—talented at many different things—but that didn't make up for the sorrow and bitterness that constantly ate at him. Throughout the course of his life, he was able to master countless skills in order to aid in his survival. Unfortunately, one of those skills was murder. When he was younger, he had been the shah’s first assassin in Persia, and it was then that he was able to become extremely effective and proficient in the dark art. Taking people’s lives became a way of living for the poor Phantom, and it weighed heavily on his already tattered soul.

He tried to forget.

Christine, his little angel, inspired beauty in him. He was the owner of an incredibly tortured and battered heart, and he never dared to dream of things like happiness anymore; but when he was with her, he fancied that he felt that most elusive emotion. During their lessons, he felt a temporary bliss that brought light into his sad existence, only to have it taken away as he returned to his home alone, cloaked in shadows.


	3. Realization

It had not been long after Christine first started her lessons that Madame Giry noticed that she had been spending far more time in the chapel than she used to.

“Christine, dear, why are you spending so much time at the chapel? Is everything alright?”

“I’m sorry, Madame. There’s nothing to worry about. I finally met the angel of music that my father promised he would send! I’ve been learning to sing with him. Oh, he has such a heavenly voice, and I have already learned a lot!” Christine had been enthused by the topic.

Madame Giry, on the other hand, had not been quite so ecstatic. She didn’t believe in superstition, and she had her suspicions in regards to who her angel of music truly was. It had unsettled her to think that Erik could be the one manipulating the child, but she had not wanted to jump to conclusions. She had to speak to him.

§ § § § § § § § § § § § §

It had been two weeks since Christine had become his student, and he was heading back down towards his home after one of their lessons when he ran into Madame Giry. She had been waiting for him.

“What do you want?” Erik’s tone had been cold, but his voice betrayed his sadness and exhaustion.

“Why are you tricking the girl into believing you’re an angel? You know she’s young and vulnerable, what do you want with her?” Madame respected Erik, but always kept in mind that he was a dangerous man.

“Why do you ask? Do you truly believe me to be such a monster that I should try to hurt a child as sweet and as innocent as Christine?” Erik’s sadness had disappeared and had been quickly replaced by anger, an emotion he was very familiar with.

“No. You know that’s not what I meant. Why are you teaching her to sing? Why are you deceiving her?” After having known Erik for so many years, she had grown used to his anger and was unfazed by his outburst. She had wanted to protect Christine, and that’s what she would do.

“Have you ever heard her sing? It’s the most divine sound I have ever had the pleasure of hearing. You know I mean her no harm. I’m only pretending to be an angel because that was what she had expected. Regardless, I could never show her…” He had trailed off, overcome with anguish. He really cared for the child, but he knew she could never know who he was or what he truly looked like.

“You’re treading dangerous waters, Erik. She would be devastated if she found out this was all a lie. You have to show yourself. She’s young. She has no prejudice.” Madame had tried to be understanding of Erik’s situation. He was always alone and had been consistently treated with malice, but she always hoped that some sort of happiness would ultimately find him.

“I… I can’t…” If the world had done nothing else for him, it had taught him that he was never to be accepted.

“You know what you have to do.” With that, Madame Giry had left the opera ghost to his own devices.

§ § § § § § § § § § § § §

Christine had been taking voice lessons from her Angel of Music for a little over 10 years now, and she had truly grown to love him. The lessons were always held in the opera house chapel, and she rather liked meeting her tutor where she had first encountered him. It seemed like such a fitting setting for an angel, after all. Over the last couple years, Christine had become increasingly content with her life. She enjoyed dancing and spending time with Meg, but most of all, she relished her time with her Angel of Music. The only thing that she now wanted was for him to appear to her, if only once. He had comforted her and been a most perfecting teacher throughout all of these years, and now she only wished to see him.

Unfortunately, even after so long, Erik had yet to reveal himself to Christine. Not for lack of wanting to, because he really had become disgusted with his game of make believe, but because he could never bring himself to face her. He wouldn’t be able to bear her look of fear and repulsion. She had requested to see him several times over the years, but he persistently refused, so she had eventually stopped asking. It hurt to see the disappointment in her eyes every time he said no, but there was no way for her to know the consequences that would undoubtedly come as a result of what she was asking for. It was for the peace of mind of both of them that he kept himself hidden.

Although, Erik wasn’t too sure that he hadn’t lost his peace of mind already. He thought about Christine day and night—his soul came to life because of her. When he wasn't basking in her warm presence, he was writing, playing the organ, composing, designing, drawing, and painting. She had slowly become his sole inspiration—his true obsession—and Erik hadn’t even noticed it was happening until one night he awoke panting with sweat on his brow from a most explicit dream concerning his dear pupil.

Christine had indeed blossomed into a truly amazing young woman. She was brilliant, compassionate, curious, driven, and devastatingly beautiful. Deep down, Erik knew that he wasn't worthy of her but was ultimately powerless to stop the feelings that were already becoming deep rooted in his heart.

He had fallen in love with her, and it was nothing short of distilled agony.


	4. The Man in the Mask

The decision was cast. Erik would reveal himself to Christine. Madame Giry had been adamant about him doing so for the past 10 years, and he had finally decided it was time.

He didn't have high hopes for the meeting. In fact, as much as it terrified him, he was fairly certain Christine would never want to talk to him again. He knew very well that he would be destroyed if that were her decision, but he also knew that he couldn't keep living a lie with her. He couldn't continue deceiving her because she made him genuinely happy—it was wrong and selfish.

“Christine?” They just finished their lesson, and Erik knew he had to reveal himself before he lost his courage and changed his mind.

“Yes, angel?” Christine was unsettled by the tone of her angel’s voice. He seemed nervous, which was strange to her because since she knew him, he exuded nothing but confidence.

After a moment’s pause Erik continued.

“I must confess something to you. I have done you a disservice, one for which you may never forgive me…" He hesitated, and Christine held her breath. "I am not your angel of music. In fact, I am no angel at all.” Erik braced himself.

“...What do you mean?” She was utterly dumbfounded.

Erik very slowly stepped out from his usual hiding spot in order to reveal himself to her. Contrary to his expectations concerning how she would react upon first seeing him, Christine was perfectly calm. Shocked, but calm.

“I… I'm sorry.” Erik didn’t know what else to say.

Christine couldn't believe her eyes. Before her stood a tall, lean man with a white mask over the right half of his face. He wore a black cloak and was dressed in an impeccable black suit, with a maroon waistcoat and a black cravat. He had incredibly bright blue-green eyes and sleek black hair. He quite contrasted her idea of what an angel would look like, but not in a bad way. She was taken with his air of dark confidence and grace. A myriad of thoughts raced through her head as she took in the appearance of the figure before her, only to have them disrupted by the sound of his familiar voice. He was apologizing.

She didn't know how she felt. She looked up at him and simply nodded, not quite sure that she was capable of speaking. Anger and disappointment welled up in her chest. How could he? Who was this man to deceive her for so long? She berated herself for believing in her fantasy for so many years. Of course he wasn't an angel. That was nothing more than a blatant fantasy that was fed to a little girl in order to comfort her in a time of extreme sorrow. Nevertheless, her anger was not directed at him. Regardless of what he was or wasn't, she found that she could not truly be mad at him because he had always been gentle with her. She really did care for the man who generously provided her with comfort and knowledge as her teacher, and that realization confused and frustrated her more than anything.

“I’m sorry, I'm afraid I'm not feeling well. Will you excuse me?” Christine tripped over the words, but as soon as they were uttered, she was gone. She needed space, air, time to think. She didn’t know what to do, and she wanted to cry.

Erik was devastated. It was torture to watch her sit there and look at him without saying a word. Then, in what seemed the blink of an eye, she was gone. She didn't scream at him, or get mad, or cry. Instead, she just sat there bewildered, looking so alone, so cold. He hated himself for being the cause of her grief.

He retreated to his home. He truly felt that he didn't have anything to live for if Christine was no longer to be a part of his life, and he felt utterly helpless. Why must he ruin everything good in life? Perhaps the world was right in always treating him as a monster. _Well, it doesn't matter anymore_ , he thought, as he poured himself a drink. _It's over now._

§ § § § § § § § § § § § §

For the rest of the day, Christine sat on her bed, consumed by her ruminations. How did he expect her to react? He had seemed scared of her, of her reaction, and that puzzled her. She somewhat regretted leaving in a hurry without having had the chance to ask him any questions, but she really did need some time to think. Did Madame Giry know that her Angel of Music was only a man? Should she seek him out? Where did he live? How could she find him? Thoughts of the dark, mysterious man dominated her mind, and she didn’t notice Meg approach her.

“Christine, are you alright?” Meg was concerned to see her dearest friend so still and silent. Christine gasped and jumped the tiniest bit.

“Yes, of course Meg. Do you know where I could find your mother?” Christine attempted to sound as normal as possible.

“I think she’s in her office. Why do you ask? Is something wrong?” Now Meg was really concerned.

“No, no. I just have a few questions for her regarding someone she might know.”

Meg nodded and helped Christine off her bed, and with that, Christine was on her way.


	5. Questions

When Madame Giry heard Christine at her door, she was not at all surprised. Erik had spoken to her about finally revealing himself, and she expected Christine would have questions. She got up and opened her door.

“Madame, have you known for all these years that my Angel of Music was not an angel, but indeed a man?” Christine tried to stay calm, but she sounded accusatory.

“Yes, child. I knew that he was a man.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Christine was about to cry. She felt so dumb and so betrayed.

“I’m so sorry Christine. It was not my secret to tell. You must understand that I had to allow him to do it himself.” Madame Giry felt sorry for helping to deceive Christine.

“Who is he?”

“You may have heard people refer to him as the Opera Ghost or the Phantom of the Opera. He is a decent man, but he’s far too smart for his own good. He enjoys playing tricks on people.”

Christine had often heard talk of this Phantom of the Opera, but after having faced him, she realized that a lot of the stories were extremely exaggerated. Everyone had always described him as a frightening ghoul whose sight would make anyone turn in fear and disgust, when in fact, she knew him to possess an assortment of captivating features—his brightly colored eyes, his sharp jaw, his long, lean build. However, she did acknowledge that there was certainly merit to the claim that he easily struck fear into people. His countenance and stature were in themselves very intimidating. Not to mention the dark power he exuded and his unparalleled genius.

“Where... where does he live?” Christine asked somewhat hesitantly.

“He lives below the opera house. Several stories below it, actually.” Madame Giry felt that it was an odd question, but answered it anyway.

“Thank you Madame.” Christine leaned over and hugged her guardian.

“You’re welcome, dearest.” Christine departed. She felt exhausted, and she needed to sleep.

§ § § § § § § § § § § § §

As soon as Christine left her office, Madame Giry decided to make the long journey down to Erik’s home. She knew the secret corridors of the Opera Populaire well and was able to arrive with no problems. When she finally ventured into his living room, Madame Giry was completely taken aback by what she saw. Erik was sitting low on his couch, his hair was a mess, he was not wearing his suit coat or waistcoat, and his shirt was partially untucked. His forehead was coated in a sheen of sweat and wet streaks ran beneath his eyes. Beside him sat an empty bottle of brandy—the cause of Erik's nonsensical, slurred speech.

“Erik! What in the world is wrong with you?” Madame was shocked to see him in such a disheveled state. She had never seen him that way before.

“Shh... she doesn’t... she left.” Erik slurred, and hung his head.

“Erik, get up! She’s just in shock. She didn’t leave. I’m positive you’ll see her again. She came to me to ask about you.”

Erik tilted his head up and met her gaze with a look in his eyes that caused her chest to tighten. In those brilliant orbs of cerulean, she saw the sheer hopelessness and incessant torment that haunted her friend, and almost instantly she knew the cause.

“...You love her.” Madame whispered, realizing why Erik had been acting so reckless.

“Yes.” Erik managed to say.

Madame was at a loss for words, so without speaking, she began cleaning up the mess he’d made. Chairs were knocked over, his glass was on the floor, and there were papers everywhere, some torn to pieces. As she went about the business of picking up all the scraps, she realized that some of the papers had been drawings of Christine. She didn’t quite know how to process the information she had just gathered. Could she let him burden her with his broken spirit? He needed her, she saw that now, but Christine was like a daughter to her. What would she do if Meg was in this position?

By the time Madame Giry had finished cleaning up, Erik had gotten off the couch and made himself look slightly more presentable. He was somewhat embarrassed to have had his friend find him in his state of disorder.

“Thank you.” He stated, in his usual confident demeanor.

“You’re welcome…" She hesitated in asking the question that sat on her tongue for fear of angering him, but ultimately decided that she needed to know. "Are you going to tell her?” Madame Giry asked gently, feeling that it was a sensitive topic.

“I can’t. You know I can’t.” Erik answered cooly.

Madame nodded, turned, and left.


	6. Erik

Christine spent the next few days feeling bereft. She missed the company of her angel, even if she couldn’t call him that anymore. He had been a constant in her life, and she hadn’t realized how much she needed and cared for him until he was gone. She needed to find him. She needed to see him again. She yearned to ask him all the questions that were constantly bouncing around in her head.

One night after dancing rehearsal, she wandered back down into the chapel. It felt different somehow. She sat down and waited for a while before realizing that he wasn’t going to randomly appear. Out of ideas, she began singing.

“ _Angel of Music, guide and guardian..._ ”

Erik almost sobbed at the sound of Christine’s voice calling out to him. God, he would do anything for her. He quickly composed himself and made his way to the chapel and stepped out in front of Christine.

“Hello, Christine.” Erik greeted her.

Christine was captivated by Erik’s demeanor. He was imposing, but not in an unpleasant way. To Christine, it seemed that his air and appearance demanded attention. He was graceful, elegant, dark, and mysterious, and she found it positively fascinating. Realizing that he had greeted her, she quickly recovered and replied.

“Hi, Angel.” Christine smiled, despite herself. She missed his voice, his presence.

Her smile dazzled him. He had seen her smile many times before, but this was the first smile she had given him when he was facing her as himself.

“I would prefer that you call me Erik.”

Christine was taken aback when he told her his name. For some reason, it slipped her mind that he should have one. Of course, he was a man, but a man like no other, and it had never occurred to her. _Erik._ She felt closer to the mysterious figure after having learned his name. She rather liked it and felt that it suited him well.

“Of course. Sorry if I’m disturbing you, I… I just have a few questions.”

“Do not apologize, Christine. I am happy to oblige.”

“Why did you do it?” Christine blurted. As soon as he heard the words, Erik sighed.

“I truly am sorry, Christine. It was never my intention to cause you any distress or to keep you in the dark for so long. Pretending to be your Angel of Music was easy and comfortable, and I felt I could never reveal myself…” With the last words Erik turned away from her.

“What made you change your mind?” Christine hadn’t really considered the mask until this moment. What was he hiding? Was he afraid that she wouldn’t accept him? Had people been cruel in the past?

“I knew it was wrong. I could no longer continue to play a game of make believe.” Erik’s voice sounded strained, and Christine felt compelled to soothe him.

“...Thank you. Thank you for being a great teacher and companion.” At those words, Erik spun around and gazed at her with a look of such complete surprise, gratitude, and admiration that Christine’s breath escaped her.

“Do not thank me. I selfishly deceived you because you brought me happiness. A happiness that I never dared to dream of, a happiness I don’t deserve.” Erik hung his head.

“Why do you say that? Of course you deserve it. Everyone does.” It pained Christine to see him so honestly convinced that he was destined for dejection and darkness.  What happened to this man to make him feel that way?

“Oh Christine, you have always been an unbelievably compassionate person, but I have done terrible things in my past—things that I can never forget. I have experienced horrors that I wish to never remember. I deserve a life in the shadows.” Her angel’s voice was filled with an anguish that affected Christine deeply.

“Will you continue to be my teacher?” Christine sounded hopeful.

Erik couldn’t quite believe his ears. His wonderful Christine desired to recommence their lessons. His dark contemplations faded away as his heart swelled with joy.

“We shall start again tomorrow. Goodnight, Christine.” Erik replied in his melodic voice with a slight upturn to his lips.

“Goodnight, Erik.” Erik gracefully bowed and disappeared. Christine was left feeling full and content, and she smiled to herself as she left the chapel.


	7. Impromptu Audition

Christine had always hated La Carlotta with her narcissistic attitude and rude commentary, and she made it a point to the older woman as much as possible. For that reason, whe the italian singer fell ill, Christine couldn’t help but be ecstatic. No more dealing with that miserable wretch! She practically skipped to her singing lesson.

“Erik! You’ll never guess. La Carlotta has gotten sick! I no longer have to deal with her lack of manners! At least until she’s better again.” Christine rushed through her news and smiled.

“I’m glad you don’t have to put up with her lack of civility. Not to mention her lack of talent. Do you know what this could mean?” Erik was dressed as impeccably as usual. It had been a few months since Erik revealed himself to Christine, and she had yet to see him dressed in anything other than a perfectly tailored suit and his pristine white mask.  While she had always found him attractive, she had recently begun to feel a constant longing to be with him as much as possible.

“No. What?”

“It means that she most likely will not be able to perform in Hannibal next week.” Erik gave her one of his signature half smirks that she so loved, and she found herself smiling unconsciously in return. Then, as she realized what he meant, her happiness dissipated. She couldn’t sing in place of La Carlotta! She was not prepared, she’d make a fool of herself. Not to mention she’d disappoint Erik, and that’s the last thing she wanted. She started to feel as if she couldn’t breathe.

At the look on Christine's face, Erik chuckled.  “Relax, Christine. You would do wonderfully if you were to take her place.”

“No, no, no. I can’t. I’m not ready to sing in front of the people of Paris.” Christine sounded almost as panicked as she was feeling.

“Let’s begin our lesson, shall we?” Erik successfully changed the topic, and Christine simply nodded in response. Christine sat next to him at the piano bench and let her shoulder brush against his.  Erik shivered. He savored their casual touches and doubted that she knew the effect that they had on him. Oh, how he yearned for his skin to touch hers, for her to want him as much as he wanted her.

Christine had been sitting next to Erik on the bench during their lessons for about two weeks. The first time she accidentally touched him, she felt heat spread throughout her body. His presence was so consuming, and she found herself desperately yearning to be near him. She loved the captivating grace with which he carried himself, the way he let himself be possessed by their music, his magnificent voice, the way he always spoke with wit and sophistication, his pristine appearance, and his pure genius. When she got close to him, she was usually able to catch his delicious scent. His smell was a spicy, clean musk, and she found that she could never get enough of it. By the time each lesson ended, Christine was left wanting more. She hated that Erik was always the image of unaffected poise. She could never tell what he was thinking or feeling, and it was infuriating.

§ § § § § § § § § § § § §

Two days later, Monsieur Reyer, the Opera Populaire’s musical director, informed the crew that La Carlotta was in fact not going to be able to sing for the weekend’s opening night of Hannibal. Everyone was in an uproar, including the owners Monsieur Gilles André and Monsieur Richard Firmin.

“We can’t refund a full house, André!” Firmin exclaimed.

Christine was standing with Meg and Madame Giry when the announcement was made. Her throat went dry as she realized what was about to happen.

“Excuse me, Messieurs. Christine Daaé could sing it.” Madame Giry had spoken up and approached the men.

“La Carlotta cannot be replaced, Madame Giry.” Monsieur Reyer was already frustrated, and the thought of a chorus girl taking the place of the prima donna almost pushed him over the edge.

“Please, Monsieur Reyer, give her a chance. She has been well taught by an excellent teacher.” The conductor sighed, but decided he didn’t have anything to lose.

“From the beginning of the aria, then please mademoiselle.”

Christine was nervous but was equally comforted by the idea that Erik had, in fact, been a great teacher. She stepped forward and began to sing, keeping her beloved mentor in mind.

Erik was lurking about behind the scenes when he heard Christine's angelic voice fill the opera house. That beautiful, familiar sound with which he had become so obsessed soared high and filled him with warmth and pride. He had known she had no reason to be worried.


	8. Hannibal

Before she knew it, it was opening night for Hannibal at the Opera Populaire. Erik had not been the only one that was extremely pleased with her performance, and it was agreed that Christine should take La Carlotta’s place. She was getting ready for her fast approaching debut when she heard a knock at the dressing room door.

“Christine?” It was Erik.

She bolted to the door and opened it with haste. Erik’s mouth nearly fell open at the sight that greeted him. Christine was not yet in costume, so she wore nothing more than a thin, white robe, and Erik couldn't find words to speak. He wanted nothing more than to rip off that robe and take her right there…

“Hi, Erik.” Erik quickly pushed away his fantasies and stepped into the dressing room.

“Ah, Christine. How are you feeling?”

“I don’t know. I’m nervous, and I’m not entirely certain I can do this…” Christine’s voice trembled a little. Erik yearned to hold her in his arms to in order to comfort her but refrained from doing so for fear of rejection.

“Of course you can, Christine. You are a divine singer. You could do this performance in your sleep.” Erik spoke gently as he took a step closer to her. Christine looked up at him and felt almost instantly soothed by his proximity and the look of admiration on his face.

“Thank you, Erik. It means the world to know you have confidence in me.” With that, Christine closed the gap and threw her arms around Erik’s torso. His body tensed, having been completely taken by surprise. Tears pooled in his eyes as he let himself put his arms around his most beloved angel. God, he’d never been touched like this, and his entire body trembled. In all his years of living, no one ever touched him with anything but cruelty and aggression. He'd never imagined someone would ever _embrace_ him. He loved the feel of Christine’s body pressed against his and the warm smell of vanilla and cinnamon drifting into his distorted nose. He knew now that he would forever crave them.

Christine felt Erik’s fingers running through her curly hair as she snuggled her face into his chest. Surrounded by his lean, strong arms, she was enveloped by his intoxicating scent—the familiar aroma that she had grown to love. Erik tightened his arms around her before taking a deep breath and letting her go.

When Christine looked up at him, he seemed like he was in pain. Erik felt bereft without Christine in his arms, but he knew he had to let her go so that she could ready herself for the night’s performance.

“You will do marvelously, Christine.” His voice was filled with tenderness and yearning, and Christine regretted having to ruin such a perfect moment.

“Thank you, Erik. I’ll sing my best.” Christine gave him a warm smile. He bowed gracefully, turned, and left.

 _She embraced me!_ Erik’s mind was racing, filled with thoughts of Christine’s lovely scent and petite form tucked into his, her face snuggled into his chest, her hands on his back. His longing for her touch pained him.

§ § § § § § § § § § § § §

The applause rang loudly in her ears as she finished the aria. The crowd loved Christine, and they threw roses at her as they cheered. She knew that she should have tried to memorize every detail of the moment she was in, but she could only think of being with Erik to celebrate their shared success. Thanks to him, she had made it through the entire opera almost flawlessly!

Erik had never been so proud in his life. Christine’s performance had been exemplary, and she looked positively radiant on stage—his heart throbbed. He needed to congratulate her, and so he would.

Christine sat in her dressing room surrounded by flowers, but was disappointed to see that none of them had been from Erik. Suddenly, just as Christine pondered her missing flower, she heard a knock at her door. _Erik!_ She skipped to the door and opened it cheerily, only to find Madame Giry standing on the other side. The ballet mistress delicately held a bright red rose tied with a silky black ribbon and handed it to Christine.

“You did great, my dear. He is very pleased with you.” Christine nodded in response, and Madame left.

Sitting in front of her mirror, she looked down at the flower feeling content to have gotten one, but sad to have had it delivered by Madame Giry instead of Erik himself. What happened? Did he not wish to see her?

At that thought, she heard a familiar voice from many years ago.

“Little Lotte, you were perfect.” Raoul de Chagny beamed at the beautiful young woman sitting in front of him.

“Raoul! It’s been so long, how are you?” Christine was relieved at the sight of her old friend, but again disappointed that he was not the man she was longing to see.

“Fantastic, Christine. What do you say we go out for dinner? So much has occurred in so many years. I’m sure you have much to recount.” Raoul laid his hand on her shoulder as he was sure she would say yes.

“I’m sorry, Raoul, I can’t. Perhaps another time?” Christine really didn’t want to spend her evening with a former acquaintance. She wanted Erik.

“Alright, but you should be warned, I will ask again!” Raoul chuckled with a smirk and took his leave.

Erik watched the entire exchange from behind the dressing room mirror. He clenched his fist at the sight of this presumptuous _boy_ trying to take his beautiful angel from him. Hot rage pulsed in his veins at the sight of this fool laying his hands on Christine. If he dared to do that again, he would regret his very existence. His temper had been slightly assuaged when he heard Christine reject the invitation, but his breathing remained ragged and his jaw was still clenched. He needed to talk to her.

Ever so slowly, he slid the mirror open, once again revealing himself to his student.


	9. Seat of Sweet Music's Throne

Christine was always impacted by the sight of Erik. No matter how many times she saw him, his stature, lithe body, brilliantly white mask, bright blue-green eyes, and air of dark confidence drew the breath from her lungs. She had heard a light whooshing sound when she turned around and saw Erik standing in front of her mirror. There was a dark look in his eyes—a look of dominance. Christine remained frozen as she warred with her simultaneous desires to cower in the corner and to have him take her in his arms once again. The power lurking in his eyes made her want to submit to his every wish and become his consenting servant.

“Erik? Is everything alright?” Her currently breathy voice trembled.

“Who was that _insolent boy_ who _dared_ to touch you?” Erik hissed, his voice laced with fury and what Christine perceived as jealousy.

“His name is Raoul. He was a childhood friend. I didn’t know he was going to be here.” Christine didn’t want what should be a joyful night to be ruined by someone so insignificant. He seemed slightly mollified by her response, but she could still spot the muscle in his jaw working as he clenched it.

“Erik, really. I do not care about him. I only wanted to celebrate tonight’s success with you. Without you, Hannibal would have been a disaster.” Christine soothed. Erik’s entire body seemed to slightly relax as he let out a deep breath. Without a word, he reached his hand out for her to take.

Hesitant at first, Christine took it. Under her touch, his anger seemed to completely melt away. She heard his breath hitch, and it made her chest tighten. What was only a minute ago, Erik had stood before her as a strapping, dominant figure but was almost instantly transformed into an unsure, yielding man by a simple show of trust and affection. It dawned on Christine that his behavior stemmed from his belief that he could never hope to attain either of those things, and she was determined to show him otherwise.

§ § § § § § § § § § § § §

The trip down to Erik’s home had been entrancing, and Christine could hardly believe it had actually happened. Nevertheless, she now stood in his living room and was taking in everything around her. His home was as dark and as elegant as he was. Due to being underground, his home had no windows and no outside light reached its interior. Instead, everything was bathed in a warm glow shed by the countless candles that surrounded her. He had dark wooden furniture, an organ sitting on a pedestal, rugs with rich colored patterns, and his own works of art covering the walls. _Remarkable._ Christine couldn’t help but feel that she was getting a better look into Erik’s mind simply by being there.

He didn’t know why he had brought her. In fact, he hardly remembered doing it. One second, he was in her dressing room, and the next she was standing in his home. Erik had to admit, the sight of Christine standing in his living room was surreal, and he found himself dumbstruck. He fantasized often about his beautiful Christine but never dreamed that she would ever actually end up there. He had no idea what to do about the situation, but decided he would at least talk to her.

“Congratulations are in order. Your performance was breathtaking, Christine. I am profoundly pleased and proud.” Erik had recovered his usual air of cool composure.

“Thank you, Erik, but I should be the one congratulating you. After all, it is your teaching that allowed me to do so well tonight.” Christine was cheery, and he could not fathom why.

“Yes, well, you have been a most excellent student.” Erik had stepped closer to her as they spoke, but held his hands behind his back for fear of doing something he shouldn't. Christine made no reply, but gave him a brilliant smile that caused his heart to flutter. “Please, sit. Would you like some tea? I'm afraid that's all I have to offer at the moment.”

Christine sat down on the black settee. “Tea would be great, thank you.” He disappeared from her sight, and suddenly she felt nervous. She was actually here! She thought she had been dreaming, but Erik’s presence always filled her with the same feelings of excitement and warmth, feelings which she had never been able to conjure up in her imagination. He returned with two steaming cups of tea and handed one to Christine.

A comfortable silence settled over them as they finished their hot beverages. Erik had taken a seat on the other end of the settee when he had come back with their drinks, and now that they had finished them, she longed to be closer to him. Christine slowly stood up and hesitantly closed the distance between them. He looked up at her from his sitting position with nervous eyes and confusion creasing his forehead. She reached out and laid her hand on his unmasked cheek. Erik closed his eyes and inhaled through his nose as his breathing sped up.

“ _Christine…_ ” Erik’s voice was rough and strained, and hearing him speak her name like that sent a flash of delicious sensation running through her body. Christine practically fell onto his lap and threw her arms around his neck. Erik grunted in her ear, causing a ball of heat to settle in her stomach. He languidly set his hands on her hips and lightly pulled her into a better position. As she straddled him, Christine let out a small whimper and did something she never thought she would.

She leaned forward and kissed him.


	10. In the Phantom's Home

Christine’s lips pressed against his set his desire ablaze—Erik couldn’t get enough of her, even as she sat astride him. His heart was pounding so loudly and erratically that he would not have been surprised to find that she could hear it too. Within seconds, his touches went from being hesitant and uncertain to being assertive and hungry. His hands possessively tugged at her hair and roamed her body, exploring her back, her sides, her hips, and her legs. His mouth worked ardently as he directed their kissing.

His touches left her wishing that he wasn’t wearing his usual gloves and that she wasn’t wearing her already thin dress—she needed to feel his skin running against hers. She breathed into his mouth as he pulled away, overwhelmed with sensation. The world was quickly falling away, and the only thing that mattered was him.

“ _Erik._ ” Christine whispered desperately into his neck, to which Erik groaned in response. The feeling of her hot breath on his skin was intoxicating, and he was struggling to maintain control. He couldn’t let himself do something for which she would hate him, so with a willpower that he did not know he possessed, he let his hands slowly slide off of her beautiful body and fall to his sides.

At the loss of his hands on her sides, Christine felt bereft. Why would he stop? Had she done something wrong?

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let myself lose control like that, Christine. I’m so sorry.” He panted. Erik's tone was genuinely penitent, and it hurt her to hear it. She wanted nothing more than to be in his hot embrace with his lips on hers, but she knew that was something that Erik would never dare to imagine. She had to make him understand.

Erik looked up into her eyes, and instead of the repulsion he had expected to find there, he found understanding, tenderness, _desire_. Ever so gently, Christine leaned forward and brushed her lips against his. Slowly, she pressed a trail of delicate kisses starting at his forehead and worked her way to his nose, his chin, his unmasked cheek, and his eyes until she found her way back to his lips. However, just before she met his soft lips with her own, she paused. Her mouth hovered closely to his, but she wanted, _needed_ him to complete the kiss.

His eyes were closed and his breaths were short, but the warmth that heated his lips alerted him to Christine’s current position. Without even thinking, he rushed forward, cupping her face with his hands, and kissed her. She practically melted under his touch, lightly whimpering, completely giving into his passion. Her fingers wound in his hair and she pressed her body firmly against his while his fingers recommenced their passionate exploring.

“Erik...your gloves, _please_ , your gloves…” Christine breathlessly begged into his ear. In a swift motion, Erik removed them. After the barrier had been taken off, they fully faced each other as they tried to catch their breath. Unsure of himself, Erik very slowly reached around the back of his neck and gently unhooked Christine’s hands, taking them in his own. They locked eyes while he laced his fingers with hers, and for the first time, Christine realized that Erik’s eyes and touches were replete with a consuming love. She wished to talk to him about it but knew that he would take it the wrong way, and she had no desire to ruin this moment.

Looking in her eyes, Erik almost confessed the overwhelming love he felt for her but ultimately refrained. He would not be able to handle her rejection. He would surely die. Instead, he took one of her hands and pressed it against his chest over his accelerated heartbeat. Then, after letting go of her delicate fingers, he tenderly laid his other hand on her soft, warm cheek. She pressed her face into his touch, turned her head, and pressed a kiss on his palm. Erik almost wanted to cry. This remarkable young woman that he so wholeheartedly adored was showering him with affection, and it nearly broke him.

“ _Christine._ ” Erik’s voice came out as a low whisper. At the sound of her name being pronounced like a desperate prayer, Christine’s throat tightened. She gave him a lingering kiss as she got off of his lap, sat next to him, and settled into his side. Her senses were beginning to come down from their heightened states, and she once again took mental note of Erik’s enchanting aroma. She took a deep breath, letting the spicy, clean musk fill her lungs as Erik’s hand settled on her arm and his thumb rubbed small circles on her skin.

Not long after having snuggled up to him, she had fallen asleep. Erik found he was incapable of waking her, seeing her in such a state of serenity and happiness, so he let her rest. He slowly slid himself out from under her and turned around to pick her up gently so as not to disturb her slumber. Christine was incredibly light, and Erik didn’t struggle to get her to a more comfortable spot. Steadily, he lowered her onto his large bed. He stood there staring at her sleeping body for a few minutes, struck by the fact that she was sleeping in his room, on his sheets. The realization made him shiver and brought many of his fantasies to surface, but he forced himself to recover his composure.

“Sleep well, my angel.” Erik lightly caressed her face and went to his study. He needed to think, and he knew that he would not be getting any sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be more to come, I have yet to decide where I want to take the story.


	11. Morning After

Erik sat down at his desk with a glass of brandy. What had just happened? Christine had made the first move, of that he was sure, but what he could not figure out was why she would want to do it in the first place. For a second, Erik let himself believe that it could have been mutual attraction but quickly demolished that idea and replaced it with misplaced excitement and happiness. It had to have been Christine’s successful performance, or at least, that’s what Erik was beginning to believe. After all, it had been a very big night for Christine, and maybe she wasn’t thinking clearly.

He didn’t get wink of sleep. He was completely consumed with his vivid memories of Christine sitting on his lap, her lips on his skin, her breath on his neck, her chest pushed against his, and his bare fingers on her beautiful face. It was impossible to think of anything else, especially when she was in his house, on his bed. Every time he remembered her location, a shiver ran down his spine, and he found it hard to stay in his study, but alas he did. All night long, Erik sat like this.

By the time morning came, Erik’s appearance had become disheveled. His usually perfectly combed hair was a mess due to having run his fingers through it countless times, his shirt was untucked, and he had lost his waistcoat and cravat. In this state, Christine found him sitting at his organ, fingers softly playing a piece that he had composed.

As she first opened her eyes, she realized that she was no longer on the couch, but on a bed. She didn’t know how she got there but figured Erik had brought her to his room once he had noticed she had fallen asleep. Flashbacks from the previous night quickly pushed away all other thoughts, and Christine clenched her fists on the sheets. Erik was such an incredibly passionate man and remembering his reverent touches and hot kisses had her jumping out of her skin. It didn’t help that she was laying in his room, surrounded by reminders of him. She brought the covers to her face and took a deep breath. His delicious scent filled her nose, and she sighed with contentment.

Reluctantly, Christine lifted herself from the mattress and slowly stood up. There was a covered mirror on the other end of his room, and after shifting the drape that hung over it, she went about fixing her appearance. To her horror, she looked like a complete mess—her already curly hair was tangled, her makeup had smudged under her eyes, and her dress was wrinkled. She did her best to tame her hair with her fingers and wipe off the excess makeup, but she couldn’t really do much about her clothes. Once that was done, she exited his room and saw his back was turned towards her as he played at his beloved organ.

She slowly wandered over to him, and at the sound of her footsteps, Erik stopped playing and turned to look at her. She froze in place. In all of the time that Christine had known him, she had never seen him in this ungroomed, exhausted state. He was still as handsome as ever, but it took her by surprise, and she wondered if he had slept at all. However, at the look of longing and love in his eyes, Christine forgot her thoughts and found herself smiling at him.

“Good morning, Erik.” Christine said as he turned back towards his instrument.  


“Good morning, Christine. I trust you slept well?” Erik’s voice sounded oddly aloof, but she could not fathom why. It was a drastic contrast to how vulnerable and open he had been with her the previous night.

“Yes, thank you. Did you sleep at all?” Her voice was laced with concern.

“No.” Erik’s curt response caused Christine’s giddy mood to dissipate. It was agonizing to feel him slipping through her fingers just when she thought that something had finally bloomed between them. What caused his change of heart? Did she go too far yesterday? She felt instantly deflated and self-conscious. A few minutes passed before anyone said anything. Eventually, Christine approached Erik.

Slowly and uncertainly, she reached up and put her hand on his shoulder. The instant that her hand made contact, Erik’s whole body seemed to release a tension that he had been holding since he laid her down in his bed. His hands limply fell to his sides as they slid off of the keys. He hung his head and sighed. Shaking, he pulled away from her grasp.

“Erik, please… I’m sorry.” Christine’s voice was filled with anguish. What had she done wrong? She wasn’t even sure why she was apologizing. It was easy to see that Erik was trembling, but she didn’t know how to help or what to do.

“Please talk to me. What did I do wrong?” Erik made no response. He felt like he was suffocating. He had decided last night that he would not allow Christine to do something she would regret, or worse to do something out of pity for him, but what he had not realized was how truly difficult it was going to be to reject her.

Gently, she reached for him again. She rested her hand on his shoulder and caressed his face with her other hand. She couldn’t tell what he was feeling or thinking because she couldn’t see his face, so she softly tried to turn his face towards her. He pushed his cheek into her palm, and she felt an enormous wave of relief wash over her. As soon as her brown eyes made contact with his bright cerulean ones, she was struck by the unimaginable misery that she found there. He looked like the weight of the world sat on his shoulders, and all she wanted to do was help him to bear the weight.

“Oh Erik…” Christine gingerly brought his face to hers and made contact with his lips. Only when she did, she heard Erik whimper. His lips trembled against hers, and his breathing was heavy. Slowly, Erik pulled himself away from her kiss. Upon finding the look of sadness and concern on his angel’s face, he took a deep breath. This was for her own good.

“Christine. I...I-I think last night was a mistake.” At the sound of those words, a lump formed in Christine’s throat and tears glazed her eyes. It pained Erik beyond words to hurt her, but it had to be done.

“Do not mistake my meaning, Christine. Last night was the greatest night of my life. I have never felt more joy or pleasure in my 35 years of living, but I do not believe you were thinking clearly. You are an incredible young woman in more ways than one, and you shouldn’t get involved with a monstrous man who is 16 years your senior and unable to provide you with the happiness you deserve. I have earned a life in darkness. I don’t want that for you...” It had become evident that this was hard for Erik, too. He had begun to have difficulty talking.

“Erik... stop.” It was too much. “Please don’t do this.”

Erik broke eye contact and turned away. He couldn’t say what he was about to say while looking at her in the eyes.

“It pains me to admit that I could never give you what you should want and rightfully have.”

Christine couldn’t help but fall to her knees and begin to silently cry. She had lost all her strength. Why did he have to ruin this? Last night had been so perfect. She had finally broken through his barriers, only to have him turn her away.

“Fine…” Christine gathered herself, stood up, and began to leave. At sight of her beginning to retreat, Erik began to panic.

“Christine, wait!” Christine stopped and turned to look at him, careful not to get her hopes up. “...Will I see you tomorrow? For our lesson… that is if you still wish to be my student.”

Christine sighed. “I don’t know, Erik. I don’t know…”

And then, she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worry not, this is not the end for our beloved Phantom and his angel.


	12. Doubt

By the time that Christine had returned from her night with the Phantom, everyone was already looking for her. Madame Giry had grown excessively worried, and Meg had spent her night asking around about her dearest friend. No one had seen her after the show except Raoul, who was thoroughly questioned by the opera house staff and by the Giry women. He grew concerned as he remembered Christine having told him she had had a previous engagement. Why did no one know where she was? Where could she have gone?

Ultimately, Christine returned to Madame and her dear friend and did her best to stay away from everybody else. In fact, she ended up asking Madame Giry to tell everyone that she was not to entertain guests because she needed to rest. Her night with Erik had been wonderful, and she had hoped to stay in that moment forever, but this morning was so completely different. She needed time to process everything. Why was he pushing her away? She knew what she wanted. Why couldn’t he see that? That was the manner in which Christine spent most of the day—consumed by her ruminations.

“What happened, Christine? Were you with Erik?” Madame Giry spoke softly as she approached Christine who was staring at the ceiling as she laid on her bed. Having trouble finding the energy to respond, she weakly nodded her head.

“Did he hurt you? What’s wrong?” Christine could tell that her caretaker was beside herself with concern and was shocked to find that she would think that Erik would ever do anything to harm her.

“No of course not…” She trailed off and paused, searching for the right words. “I’m just not sure what to do… I’m afraid that I might want something that he doesn’t. He insists that he knows what’s best for me, but he doesn’t listen… ” Christine got choked up thinking about what had happened with Erik that morning. An unexpected realization suddenly dawned on Madame Giry—Erik’s love was not unrequited.

“...Do you love him..?” The words came out as a whisper, but Christine had heard them loud and clear. It wasn’t until the question was asked that she learned of her own true feelings.

“I.. I do.” Her response was firm and without doubt, but quiet. Madame simply nodded and decided to hug the young woman that she considered her daughter.

“It’s alright to be confused,” she whispered. “Love is a disordered, tangled affair. Especially when you love someone like Erik, a man whose spirit has been broken to the point that he firmly believes that he does not deserve affection. Be patient, Christine.”

It was comforting to hear those words from Madame Giry, someone who knew Erik well and whom she trusted explicitly. She reluctantly pulled away from the embrace and laid back down on the bed. Whatever happened, she needed some time to think.

§ § § § § § § § § § § § §

Erik could not believe what he had just done. When he had first made the decision, it seemed like it was the only right thing to do. He certainly hadn’t made the decision with his own best interest in mind—God knew how he loved and desired Christine. It was out of love, in fact, that he had done what he did. Why did he regret it so much? Erik was sure that he would never be able to forget the look of misery on his precious angel’s face. He could not quite understand why she had been so upset. If he was right, and she had kissed him out of pity or over-contentment, why had she reacted that way? None of it made sense anymore and thinking incessantly about it did not seem to bring him any answers. Eventually, he developed a massive headache.

Unfortunately, he had already finished off his bottle of brandy. He could not handle being sober anymore, he needed to get away from his own thoughts. With desperation, he ran to his study and opened the locked box that sat in one of his drawers. In it, he found his preferred form of release, aside from his golden-brown brandy. Morphine. Quickly, he pulled out the vial and the syringe and injected himself with a grace that came from many years of practice. As the drug made its way into his bloodstream, he felt his relentless thoughts of Christine abate until he eventually found bliss. Of course, she would always be on his mind, but while high on morphine, his mind didn’t suffocate him with questions and doubts. Instead, he could admire Christine’s perfection in a detached, peaceful way.

After sitting in his study for a while, Erik slowly made his way to his organ and began to play absentmindedly. Sometimes, he didn’t even have to think of what he was doing as his fingers naturally glided over the keys. A sad, remorseful tune emerged from his beloved instrument and reverberated throughout his home. Even in this state, he could not escape his emotions. It was in this spot that he had turned Christine away. With that thought, he instantly stopped playing. He felt sick. The morphine was starting to wear off and his busy mind was beginning to assault him again.

What if she declined the offer to continue being his pupil? Surely, he would die. The mere thought of a world without his beloved Christine crushed his lungs and made it hard to breathe. Suddenly, he remembered to check the time. He had lost all sense of it while affected by the drug, but there was no chance that he would let something so stupid stop him from getting to his lesson with Christine. Even if she didn’t show up, he had to be there for the simple possibility that she may decide to persist.

It was 6:30, so their lesson wouldn't begin for another hour and a half. Erik was relieved to find that he would have enough time to take a bath, clean himself up, and make himself presentable before heading to the chapel. Without another moment of hesitation, he stood and went about performing his usual routine. By the time he was finished, he looked as he always did—groomed, well dressed, and intimidating.

He headed to the chapel early and began to pace there. Erik was never one to sit still, especially when his mind was running as it was at that very moment. He kept his body busy and tried to think of anything but the possibility that Christine would not attend. He held his hands behind his back and wrung them together as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. God, how she drove him mad.

Suddenly, he stopped. A familiar sensation ran through his body, and with it, he knew. Over the years, Erik had grown keenly attuned to Christine and her presence, and it allowed him to sense her when she was near. Slowly, he turned in his frozen position and nearly let out a relieved sob when he saw her standing before him. As quickly as he could, he recovered his elegant composure and addressed his student.

“Good evening, Christine.”


	13. Lessons

Christine wasn’t sure why she had decided to go to her lesson.  After having known him for so many years, she knew that Erik was an insufferably stubborn person—mere hours wouldn’t lead him to change his mind.  However, she also knew that if she didn’t make an appearance, he would likely take it as a sure sign that she no longer wished to see him, and that would cause his barriers to be rebuilt to an even more stifling level than they already were.  If she allowed him to slip through her fingers now, she wasn’t sure she would have the strength or the patience to break them down again.

Once she walked in and saw Erik freeze mid-step, she knew that it had been the right decision.  His entire body radiated tension—his shoulders were hard, his knuckles had turned white behind his back, his neck was stiff, and his jaw was clenched.  It was evident that she was the reason that he had been frozen in place, after all, he could sense her presence just as well as she could sense his.  Christine watched with apprehension as Erik slowly turned to face her, but her breath was stolen from her lungs as she looked into his eyes.  She hadn’t considered how unprepared she truly was to see him face to face again.  Almost instantly, she was flooded with agony as she remembered how passionate and tender he had been and how miserable he had seemed when he had let her leave his home this morning.  Facing his usual collected composure proved to be nearly too much for her, as Christine felt a lump form in her throat and saw her vision blur with unshed tears.  Vaguely, she heard his rich voice greet her but was far too occupied with her reeling emotions to fully register what he said.

_ No, no, no, no, no.  _  Erik saw the glistening tears form in Christine’s eyes the instant that she had made eye contact with him.  She had made no reply after he had spoken, and it had become painfully clear that she was fiercely battling to manage the emotions that had overwhelmed her upon seeing him.  Watching Christine suffer brought on a suffocating sense of self-loathing.  Maybe he really was the monster that everyone believed that he was.

Erik had always abhorred certain things about himself and his past, but that hatred had been partially relieved when he had revealed himself to Christine and began to develop a  _ real _ relationship with her, an honest relationship, a relationship in which she knew who he was.  Or at least she thought she did.  If the truth about the horrors that haunted Erik’s past and present ever came to be known by his beloved angel, he was certain she would turn away from him in hatred and fear.  It truly pained Erik to see Christine so affected by the mere sight of him, but she had no way of knowing what he truly was—a murderer, an extortionist, and a master manipulator among other things.  Ultimately, however, he was a prideful, selfish creature and would avoid telling her for as long as he could. Nevertheless, despite his pride and selfish tendencies, it had been a while since he had reluctantly accepted the fact that he would never do her any good as anything other than a teacher and friend.

“Christine…”  Erik said as gently as he could manage.  This time she seemed to have heard him as she looked up and her brown eyes locked onto his bright blue-green ones.

“Why?”  Christine’s voice sounded strained even to her own ears.

“You could not possibly understand, Christine.”  Erik replied in a way that was harsher than he intended. Christine visibly flinched at his response and Erik was once again reminded of his truly monstrous nature.  Why did he feel the need to lash out?

“Why?  Because I’m such a child?”  Christine hissed.  God, she absolutely despised being treated as if she didn’t know what she was doing or as if she didn’t know what was in her own best interest, and having Erik treat her that way was simply too much.  She was beginning to become angry.  “You didn’t seem to think of me as a child last night!”  She added before he could respond.

  
At this, Erik’s eyes flashed with indignation.  “Watch your tongue, mon ange. I have little patience for unfair jabs and immaturity.”  His voice was incredibly calm as he uttered his warning, and Christine said nothing as she closed her mouth.  Erik sighed in resignation.  “It is not because of your age that I know you would not comprehend.”  This was not what he was hoping would come from today’s lesson.  Realistically, he knew that she would want to talk about what happened, but secretly, he had been hoping that they would pretend that it didn’t.  As usual, the world saw it fit to spite him.

“Help me understand.”  Christine’s voice was laced with desperation, but she spoke with conviction.  After having spent so much time with him, she knew for certain that there were things from his past that he was keeping from her, but she wanted to know everything.  She loved Erik, and she would be damned if she gave up on him now.

“I can’t.”  Erik’s voice was filled with all the hopelessness that he felt.  Either way he chose, he could not win. If he divulged the secrets of his past, he would lose her to terror and dread.  If he refused to tell her, she would grow to resent him for not trusting her.

“Yes, you can. Erik,  _ please _ .”  Christine begged.  She knew if she lost him now, he would be lost to her forever.

“Christine… I-I can’t. I’m sorry.”  He ultimately decided that it was better to lose her this way than to have earned her fear and her hatred for the villain that he was. With a resolve that Erik did not know he possessed, he turned to leave.  There was no way to restore things back to their prior state, and he was to blame.

Erik made to take a step, but before he was able to move, he felt Christine’s hand on his shoulder.  His entire body stiffened, and slowly, but deliberately, Christine turned him to face her.  The look of tenderness he found in her eyes nearly broke him.  Hesitantly, she moved both of her hands to cup his face.  As soon as they made contact, Erik seemed to lose his air of control.  His body released its tension, his eyes closed, and he leaned into her touch.

_ Oh, Erik…   _ It was a wonder to Christine how she could make Erik, a man that constantly wielded such power and dominance, lose his composure and yield to such a simple gesture. It melted her heart.

“You don’t have to tell me anything that you don’t want to tell me, Erik, but you should know by now that I wouldn’t turn away from you.”  Christine’s voice was so warm and compassionate.  Erik slowly opened his eyes and simply nodded.

Once he found his voice, he replied.  “Maybe in time, Christine.  Maybe in time.”

Relief flooded Christine, and a bright smile spread over her face.  Their eyes remained locked.  It always surprised her how much emotion she could find in those pools of vibrant, piercing teal that she so loved.

Neither of them knew how much time had passed when Erik finally cleared his throat and regained his usual intimidating demeanor.  “You should return to the dormitories, I fear we have surpassed our time. We can continue our lessons as normal if you should so desire.”   
  
Behind Erik’s commanding voice, Christine could sense his trepidation.  After everything, he was still uncertain that she would wish to resume being his student.  Granted, Christine wanted so much more than that, but she could not bear losing him, and she found it telling that he could not see that.

“Of course.”  Christine smiled at him, and he imperceptibly relaxed.

“Goodnight, Christine.”  Erik gave her one of his famous half smirks.  It felt like ages since she had seen one of those, and she felt overjoyed at their renewed presence.

  
“Goodnight, Erik.”  Without letting herself think too much, Christine closed the gap between them and placed a tender kiss on his unmasked cheek.  His look of surprise was priceless, and before he could say anything, she turned and left.


	14. Raoul

Time seemed to fly at the Opera Populaire, and the production of Hannibal had quickly come to its bittersweet end. Christine had relished her moments on stage and was eternally grateful to Erik for having made it possible for her to have been the prima donna, but she was glad to now be able to spend more time with her friends in the corps de ballet. As the female lead, she had been required to spend most of her time rehearsing her part with the rest of the acting cast, and it had made it increasingly difficult to spend time with Meg.

Because of her hectic schedule, Christine had not gotten the chance to finally talk to her dearest friend about Erik. However, now that she could, she felt uneasy about her confession. What could she possibly say that wouldn’t make her sound insane? Christine knew that Meg believed the stories about the Opera Ghost and feared the elusive haunting presence, so explaining her own connection to the infamous phantom was going to be a challenge. Convincing her that the myth was a real man and that the man was her teacher was going to be difficult enough without mentioning the fact that she was in love with him, so Christine decided she would concern herself with that matter later. She was already far too preoccupied with the state of her already fragile relationship with Erik.

She thought about it all the time. She knew that the reason their interactions had become so strained was because of what she did the night that he took her to his home, but she could not bring herself to regret it. The feeling of his hands on her body and in her hair, his lips passionately driving into hers, his hot breath on her face, the bare skin of his hands meeting her palms, and his fingers tracing her cheek were all unforgettable and constantly haunted her. Every night that she fell asleep, she was tormented by the memories of his strong arms and lean body pressed against hers only to wake up out of breath and bereft. Her actions that night may have caused the temporary rift between them, but Christine could not feel sorry for what she did.

For the past few weeks, she had been attending her lessons with Erik as she used to. It was initially just as difficult as it had been the first time, but he never spoke of anything that did not pertain to their lessons and Christine didn’t dare to bring anything up. Eventually, she stopped getting choked up every time she saw him and instead started to become angry. Why did he have to be so cold? It was unnecessary, and she certainly did not believe that she deserved his spite. She was already tortured enough by him in her dreams, why did she have to face the same fate when she saw him while awake?

Ever since the night of the premier of Hannibal, Raoul had been relentlessly asking her to accompany him to tea, to dinner, for a walk, or practically anything he could think of. Christine had successfully turned him down using her responsibilities at the opera house as plausible excuses, but now that Hannibal was over and she had relinquished her role as prima donna, she was afraid that she would no longer be able to ignore his attention. She had nothing against him seeing as he was a dear childhood friend, but what had kept her from going was the knowledge that spending time with Raoul would only serve to anger Erik. Unfortunately, it was for that exact reason that Christine ultimately accepted one of his offers for tea—she wanted to go out with Raoul for the simple purpose of spiting her teacher. If he was going to insist on being so cold, she was not going to wait around in agony for him to change his mind. Besides, she figured a day spent with an old friend would be an excellent way to get her mind off of everything that was eating away at her.

§ § § § § § § § § § § § §

Raoul couldn’t believe that Christine had finally agreed to join him for some afternoon tea, let alone that she had her arm in his while they walked down the streets of Paris. She was so beautiful and it was a wonder to share in her laughter and joy. He knew that she had to be his the moment he had seen her performing at the opera house.

“So Christine, where would you like to go? As much as I’m enjoying this walk, I do believe I offered you tea, and I would like to keep my word.” Raoul was a charmer. With his sandy brown hair, kind blue eyes, and warm smile, Christine was rapidly forgetting about her problems.

“I hear there’s a wonderful new café across town, and the weather is ideal for a long walk.” Christine smiled. She was genuinely enjoying the company of her friend, and the longer she stayed away from the Opera House, the later she had to deal with any issues.

“Perfect.” He smiled cheerfully at her.

Most of the walk was spent reliving old memories from a time when they were but children and discussing how much they loved residing in Paris. It unbelievable that they had run into each other after all these years, and it was so pleasant for Christine to spend time with someone who had known of her hometown and her beloved father. While at the café, Raoul questioned her about everything that happened since they had last seen each other—how she had ended up in Paris, how she had become a dancer, what it was like to live and work at the Opera Populaire, and how she had developed such an incredible voice. She felt incredibly comfortable in Raoul’s presence, which was a welcome contrast to the constant tension and excitement she felt when she was with Erik.

At the thought of her commanding teacher, Christine panicked. While she was having a pleasant afternoon, she realized that doing this just to rile Erik might have been a mistake. He had made it clear that he didn’t like Raoul when he had first seen him, and she knew that the sight of him now would only serve to make him furious.

“I hate to cut the fun short, but it is getting rather late. We should be going.” Christine kept her tone light and playful as she did not want her friend to get the impression that she was not enjoying herself.

“I’m afraid I must agree with you. Come, I’ll take you back.” Raoul spoke with an easy smile.

Upon their arrival at the opera house entrance, Christine stopped to thank the Vicomte for a lovely afternoon. After having expressed her gratitude said her goodbyes, she turned to leave. Only she was stopped by Raoul’s gentle grasp on her wrist. She turned around to protest, but before she was able to get the words out, Raoul pressed a kiss to her lips.

“Goodnight, Little Lotte.” He said with a large smile and a bow and then departed.

Christine couldn’t move. She was completely taken by surprise. Raoul had been great company all evening, but she did not think that he had thought of her as anything more than a friend. She certainly didn’t. The kiss was chaste, but even then she felt it did not elicit the same kind of ardor and pleasure that Erik’s did. _Oh no._ Did Erik see? It was bad enough that she had gone out with the Vicomte, but if her angel had seen that he had kissed her, she was positive that he would be overcome with a blinding, murderous rage.

At the sound of a whooshing cape, Christine instantly turned around. She saw no one, but she knew there was no hope that her ill-tempered tutor had not witnessed Raoul’s inappropriate display of affection.

There would be hell to pay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stumbled upon some extra free time and was able to finish writing both chapters 13 and 14. I'll update as soon as I can.


	15. Monsieur Khan

“ _HOW DARE HE_?” Erik’s raw voice echoed through his home, which was currently in a state of disaster. His entire body was quaking with a white hot, blinding rage. His veins stood out on his neck, his hair was a positive mess, his greatcoat and waistcoat were off, the remainder of his clothes were in disarray, and his fists were clenched so tight that his fingernails began to draw blood.

The question was addressed to the Daroga, Erik’s long time companion. It was a fortunate coincidence that upon witnessing the scene that sent him on a destructive rampage, his only friend was already in the process of making the journey to the depths of the Opera Populaire. The Persian had arrived too late to have stopped Erik from wrecking his own home, but was at least there to stop him from doing anything truly regrettable. After having been his friend for so long, Nadir Khan had become accustomed to the masked man’s outbursts and fits of fury and was all too aware of what his friend was capable of when provoked. However, it had been quite a while since he had seen Erik in a state of such extreme anger.

“Who?” Nadir spoke as calmly as he always did when he attempted to rein in the Phantom’s temper.

“The blasted _Vicomte_.” He let the title drip with all the hatred and contempt that he felt for the boy.

“De Chagny? What did he do? Surely he did not decide to stop being patron of the opera house.” The Persian knew little of the popular Vicomte but could not fathom why Erik would be so enraged by something he had done. He knew that the young man was providing financial support for the Opera Populaire and figured that an abrupt stop of funds was the only thing that could make Erik angry at the nobleman.

“Ha! If only it were so simple, Daroga. The _impertinent boy_ has crossed me in matters far more important than money, and he _will_ regret his actions.”

Nadir was unsettled to hear such concentrated abhorrence and choler in his friend’s voice. “Now, Erik, we must think rationally about this. Do not do something for which you will be sorry.”

“Rationally!” Erik scoffed. “He dared to touch something that is _mine_ , and I do not take such an offense lightly.”

“I’m afraid I do not understand.”

“Christine, Daroga! Christine....” Erik appeared deflated at the mention of her name but quickly recovered his rage. “That insolent fool _kissed_ her!”

“The Daaé girl?”

“Yes, you old twit. Must I spell everything out for you?”

Apparently a lot had occurred since Nadir had last spoken to Erik. The last he knew, his younger friend had still been pretending to be an angel, but that could no longer be the case. Erik couldn’t reasonably stake claim to his student if she still believed him to be a divine presence.

“So you revealed yourself?” He knew he was treading dangerous waters, but he needed to understand the situation if he was to offer any advice.

“Yes.” Erik’s breathing was beginning to slow back down, but Nadir could easily perceive the barely contained wrath in his eyes.

“When? Is she still your student?”

“Several months ago. Yes, she has remained under my tutelage.” Erik sat down and sighed.

Nadir hesitated in asking the question that could possibly reignite the masked man’s ire, but he sensed that the reason his friend had become so incensed was because he had developed feelings for the girl. He had often spoken of his student with warm affection, but it was clear that his affection had matured into something stronger. “...Does she know?” As soon as it was uttered, his masked friend’s head snapped up with his piercing blue-green eyes narrowed in challenge.

“Know _what_ , my friend?” Despite the endearment, Erik barely made an effort to mask the irritation in his voice.

“That you love her.” Nadir barely had the chance to get the words out before he found himself pushed up against a wall with an arm barring his access to air.

“Feeling adventurous today, hmm? Do not try my patience. You of all people know I have a rather limited reserve of that precious virtue.”

“Don’t be daft, Erik. You know I mean only to help.” Nadir barely managed to choke out his words before Erik increased the force with which he was pressing into the Persian’s neck. His old friend’s face began to turn purple before he fully realized what he was doing and stepped back.

“If you must know—no, she does not. And she never will.” Erik turned his back and sighed.

In the amount of time that it took to recover his ability to breathe and speak, Nadir got a chance to process the dire situation that his tormented companion was in. It seemed that his poor friend never got a reprieve from his life of darkness and conflict.

“You must tell her. Even if just for the sake of your sanity.”

“My sanity? You know as well as I do that I lost that ages ago.” Erik’s tone was bitter, but Nadir could discern his sadness. “Who would love a monster?” The entirety of his countenance was brimming with overwhelming despair, his voice pained with loss. “I would only scare her away… I can’t lose her, Nadir, I can’t.”

“Erik, certainly you must realize that you’re being unfair. You assume that she would be repulsed by your confession, but I am positive that she has done nothing to indicate that she would react in such a manner.”

“I don’t have to analyze her behavior to know that she would react that way, Nadir. Every single person who has been unfortunate enough to catch even a single glance of me or my face has turned and screamed in disgust and terror.”

“So you’re not going to give her a chance to prove you wrong? What makes you think she’s like everybody else?”

“Christine is like no one I have ever known. She is beauty incarnate and her compassion knows no bounds. She would even kiss the monster who sits before you out of the kindness of her heart... But even her seemingly boundless sympathy would not extend as far as to accept the love of a demon.”

At his statement, Nadir’s train of thought was derailed. “What did you say?”

“Are you deaf? She kissed me. But it doesn’t matter, she was overly content and misplaced her attentions.” Erik barked. To his chagrin, the Persian tossed his head back in raucous laughter. “You _dare_ to _laugh_ at me, Daroga? Continue to test me and I will make you wish that death would take you.”

“You really are daft, Erik.” Nadir couldn’t keep the laughter from his voice. “From what I’ve heard of the little Daaé, she would never kiss you out of pity or out of, how did you put it? Ah yes, misplaced contentment.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Have you ever considered that your feelings are not indeed unrequited?”

“Do not mock me.” Erik warned.

“You know Christine exceedingly well. Do you honestly believe her to be so cruel that she would intentionally give someone the wrong idea?”

Erik considered the question. “No.”

“You must tell her.” Nadir reiterated.

“No.”

“Well then, my dear friend, I do not believe you can very well be angry if the Vicomte continues to pay her special attention. You cannot expect her to turn away the young man when she has no knowledge of your feelings.”

“I am fatigued, Daroga. You know the way out.” His ever-patient advisor bowed his head and turned to leave.

His temper had significantly cooled, and Erik now had to decide on his next course of action. The thought of the presumptuous Raoul still made his blood boil, but maybe Nadir was right. The mischievous part of him itched to put the fear of God into the boy, but perhaps it truly was time to end the pretense and tell Christine. _Or maybe_ , Erik thought, _I could do both_.


	16. Masquerade

The perfect opportunity for the infamous Phantom to carry out his final plans presented itself in the form of the Bal Masque. Anybody and everybody who was affiliated with the the Paris Opera House would be in attendance, and fortunately for Erik, that included his most detested rival—Raoul de Chagny. Since his conversation with Nadir about three weeks ago, Erik had been simultaneously plotting his revenge on the boy and planning his revelation to Christine. He had not had any direct contact with his student since the last lesson they had before the night that Raoul dared to steal a kiss from her. However, Erik was not very capable of staying away, so he continued to watch over her from a distance. No matter, the separation that was torturous for them both was going to draw to an end very soon. The sweet anticipation was building to its climax as the Opera Ghost made his final preparations for the events of the fast approaching night. The Vicomte would finally see and understand—in fact, they all would—that the Phantom was not to be crossed in matters dealing with Mademoiselle Daaé.

§ § § § § § § § § § § § §

Christine was a sobbing mess. She was getting dressed for the Masquerade with Meg when she was hit by a sudden wave of overwhelming grief. It had been too long since she had seen Erik. They were finally beginning to rebuild their relationship and regain each other’s trust after the night that she spent in her teacher's home, only to have Raoul come along and destroy all the progress. Evidently, she knew she could not truly hold it against him because after all, he didn’t even know Erik existed, let alone that she had feelings for him. Now, on the night that she was to attend the ball, the accumulation of all of the anguish and stress she had experienced for the past few weeks was finally making its appearance. Aside from the fact that she had not seen her beloved teacher in what seemed like ages, Raoul had also become relentless in his pursuit to court her. While she genuinely did not dislike her dear childhood friend, she could not deny the fact that the very sight of him made her angry. It was his fault that Erik was refusing to meet her for their lessons, and she had no intentions of supplying Raoul with any reason that he should persist in his attempts to gain her favor.

“Christine, why are you crying?” Meg was concerned at seeing her dearest friend in such evident distress.

“Oh, Meg…” Christine had revealed the identity of her mentor to Meg only five days ago, and she had intentionally omitted the entire series of events that occurred on the night of the premiere of Hannibal. She was not ready to speak of her love for her teacher, especially not with Meg. The ballet girl, like most people at the Opera Populaire, was deathly afraid of the Opera Ghost, and it had been hard enough convincing her that he was indeed a man as well as her secret tutor without bringing up the topic of her emotions. “I think I’m just tired. Rehearsals have been particularly hard this week and I haven’t seen my teacher in such a long time. I think it has all just been making me weary.”

Christine did not want to mention that the thought of being wholly surrounded by people wearing masks caused her to feel intense misery. No doubt they would all be sore reminders of her Phantom, and he was ruling her thoughts enough as it was. She had no idea that she could physically ache for the presence of another person, but after having experienced that nameless agony for the last twenty-three days, she was certain that Erik was absolutely necessary in her life. During her time apart from him, she found herself daydreaming of the dark poetry that were his movements, his breathtaking sapphire gaze, his captivating prowess, the power in his demeanor and voice, and his intoxicating musk. Madame Giry and Monsieur Reyer would often scold her for her lack of concentration when Christine hadn't even realized that her thoughts had once again wandered to dwell on every detail she had memorized of her Angel of Music. It was such bittersweet torture.

“Well, I should think that the Masquerade will help to take your mind off of things. Come, Christine, do not cry. I will make sure that you and I both have fun!” Meg had no idea how wrong she was in assuming that the ball would help to clear her friend’s mind.

“I suppose you’re right. Thank you, Meg. I truly don’t know what I would do without you. Now, turn around and let me help you with your hair.” Christine gave a resigned smile. Perhaps if she was determined to enjoy herself, she ultimately would.

After an hour passed in helping each other with their costumes and hair, Meg and Christine were ready to attend the great party. They both looked absolutely stunning.

“Shall we?” Christine asked her dearest friend.

“Let’s go!” Meg exclaimed with a smile. At seeing her friend’s enthusiasm, Christine laughed. Maybe the night was going to go better than she thought.

As they arrived to the hall where everybody was dancing and drinking, Christine could not help but feel a weird mix of happiness and apprehension. The festivities looked like great fun and the smiles and laughter that surrounded her were contagious, but just as she had suspected, the masks were indeed dreadful reminders of the one person who she yearned to see. Unfortunately, her nerves only increased as she saw Raoul approaching her and Meg.

“Good evening, Christine. Mademoiselle Giry.” Raoul bowed and smiled charmingly.

“Vicomte, what a pleasure to see you!” Meg was always so eager and light hearted, and her response caused Christine to giggle. At the sound of the laugh, Raoul made eye contact with the woman he had been seeking out for the past month and gave her the warmest smile he could muster.

“Hello, Raoul.” Despite her initial misgivings, it was a relief to see a familiar and genuinely friendly face, so Christine smiled.

“May I have this dance with you?” Raoul’s eyes were brimming with hope, and Christine could not help but to accept. Besides, what were balls for if not for dancing? With a deep bow, the handsome Vicomte held out his hand. “Mademoiselle?” Looking down at him in his bent over position, Christine laughed and took his hand. Everything was so easy with Raoul, and she regretted that anything dealing with Erik had to be so difficult. However, she knew now more than ever that her childhood friend would never be more to her than exactly that—a dear friend.  


Christine was only beginning to enjoy herself when suddenly everything went silent. She didn’t even have to look to know that Erik had decided to make an appearance. She could sense him like she always had, and a shiver went down her spine. In that moment, she wished nothing more than to be as far away from Raoul as possible, but she knew it was too late. Her ill-tempered mentor would have already seen the way his rival was holding her while he twirled her about the room. Slowly, Christine turned to where she was certain her teacher was standing. The instant that she saw him, her breath was stolen from her lungs. She drank in the welcome sight, feeling overwhelming emotions roll over her in waves. Tears pooled in her eyes, but she was quick to blink them away.

He truly was glorious. There he stood, at the top of the stairs leading to the area where everyone was dancing, in a bright red costume and a skull mask that covered the upper half of his face. God, how Christine yearned for him. While her eyes took him in from head to toe, she admired the way that he wielded such immense masculine power and dark grace and the way that his lean form was perfectly displayed by his choice of attire for all to see. Even from where she stood at the bottom of the steps, Christine could easily perceive the mischief that was swimming in the teal depths of his eyes when they briefly made contact with hers. He quickly lifted his chin and began to speak.

“Mesdames et Messieurs, I bid you all a good evening. I understand I have been missed for some time, but worry not, dear friends. The Phantom of the Opera has returned.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincerest apologies for taking a while to update. I was struggling to decide in which direction I wanted to go, but the decision has been cast. Hope you all enjoy.


	17. Confrontation

The deafening silence that had filled the room before the Phantom had spoken was all at once replaced with shocked gasps and conspiratorial whispers. Much to Erik's growing amusement, some of the women even started to cry. At last, the notorious spectre that had haunted the opera house for so many years was out in the open for everyone to see, and quite a sight he was indeed. All people in the great hall, including the men, were huddling with their friends in shared fear—that is, all people except for the ever virtuous and unassuming brown-haired girl who had begun making her way towards the stairs. Christine Daaé seemed, in every sense, completely spellbound by the intimidating, crimson-clad figure standing tall at the top of the very stairs she was approaching. This did not go unnoticed by Raoul and, thinking that the object of his affections was in imminent danger, the young nobleman threw a protective arm around her waist and pushed her behind him.

In response, the Opera Ghost growled in possessive anger and Christine frowned. She hadn’t realized what Raoul was doing until her view of Erik had been obstructed by his back which effectively took her out of her dazed state. Anger once again boiled within her as she understood what her childhood friend was doing and why he was doing it. She instantly stepped away from Raoul’s hold on her and turned her eyes to her mentor. The air around him seemed to crackle with rage, and she was perfectly aware at whom it was directed.

Once again, Christine began to make her gradual ascent towards the one person whose presence she had sorely missed for the past three weeks, and once again, she found herself being held back by Raoul. This time, however, she did not refrain from instantly shooting him a glare. Surprised and confused by the look of aggravation in his beloved friend’s eyes, the Vicomte loosened his grip. He could not fathom why she would be irritated by his actions when he was only trying to protect her from that monster.

While that struggle was occurring, Erik slowly began to make his descent, one step at a time. He never tore his eyes away from his angel, whose facial expression clearly portrayed her annoyance at that damnable boy and his insolent behavior. Once he noticed that the fool was not going to relinquish his grasp on Christine, he decided to step in.

“Your persistent stupidity is really a wonder, Monsieur le Vicomte, and I must say that it can be rather amusing to witness. However, I find that I currently have no desire to deal with your moronic tendencies, and it would be in everybody’s best interest if you did not try my limited patience. Now, why don’t you let Mademoiselle Daaé go and prove to me that you do, in fact, possess a brain?” Every word was pronounced with a palpable disdain, and Raoul became noticeably inflamed by the masked man’s insults.

“Stay away from her, you fiend.” Christine had never heard such unadulterated aggression come from her gentle, fair-tempered friend and was shocked into silence by his volatile reaction.

“Fiend!” Erik mocked. “You would do well to choose your next words and actions very carefully, boy. I will not be trifled with. Let her go.” His last sentence came out as what could only be described as a growl.

“Why? So you can manipulate her into submission? Drag her away and keep her against her will? No. You’re vile. You have plagued this establishment for far too long, and I think it’s high time that someone put an end to your trickery.”

Unfortunately for Raoul, this was the exact reaction that Erik was hoping for. “As you wish, Monsieur le Vicomte.” Ever so gracefully, the Opera Ghost lept backwards while drawing his sword from its sheath. His sudden movements were met with startled gasps, including Christine’s. To his growing satisfaction, the young nobleman met his challenging gaze and gently pushed his angel further behind him before gallantly drawing out his own blade. Everything was going according to plan.

At the look of boastful amusement on his enemy’s face, Raoul felt inexplicable fury threaten to overwhelm him, and he let out an angry grunt as he took the first swing. Calm and collected, Erik easily dodged the pathetic attempt to cause harm. “Come, Vicomte, surely you can do better than that if you truly desire to keep the darling Mademoiselle Daaé from my abominable clutches.” Upsetting the boy was Erik’s primary objective, and he knew that mentioning Christine would be the easiest way to do it. As predicted, Raoul responded violently to the comment, and he took another swing at the tall villain dressed in red. Again, the hated ghost was able to evade his attempt.

“Coward, fight me like a man! Or are you incapable, seeing as you certainly do not qualify as one?” Frustration had replaced the usual kindness in his voice.

Christine had stood back and watched the fight unfold in shocked terror. She found that she hadn’t been able to move until she heard Raoul’s cruel words. “Raoul, stop!” The exclamation came out before she could stop it, and suddenly all eyes were on her. Unsettled by the judgemental stares, she felt her mouth go dry as she lowered her head to look at the ground. Swallowing, she slowly lifted her gaze from her feet to regard the two men that had been engaged in a sparring match no more than a minute ago. “Please, stop.” Her voice was weak and quiet, but it seemed that everyone had heard her.

“Christine, he is nothing but a plotting lowlife who finds demented pleasure in other people’s torment. Why are you defending him?” Her ever-noble companion’s voice sounded strained and desperate, but Christine did not care. Raoul hadn’t even known of Erik’s existence before the ball, and now he had the audacity to insult her teacher’s character as if he knew everything about him.

“Do not _ever_ call him a lowlife again.” She wasn’t sure what exactly came over her, but her voice had become cold and unforgiving.

Suddenly, Raoul approached and grasped her hand. “Why are you saying this? What has he done to you? I can protect you, Christine.” He softly whispered so that the crowd would not hear.

“Why do you assume that he did something to me, Raoul? You don’t know him. Please, just stop.” The coldness in her voice had been replaced by her usual compassion as she realized that his actions were rooted in concern for her well-being. With her eyes, she pleaded for him to understand that his concern was misguided. Gently removing her hand from his, she began to make her way towards her teacher for the third time that evening.

Christine’s interference was not something that Erik had been counting on, and the present turn of events left him at a loss for words. As she slowly approached him, his eyes roved over her from head to toe, and for the first time that evening, he was able to fully admire his angel’s appearance. Her ball gown was the palest of pinks, embellished with a subtle pattern of roses stitched into its bodice. The unruly curls that he so adored were draped over her shoulders while two small, elegant braids effectively held her hair away from her face. A lovely pink color rose in her cheeks in response to his unwavering attention, which only served to further accent her innocent beauty.

“ _Christine…_ ” Erik softly sang. In that moment, all thoughts concerning his plans to frighten the boy and the insufferable managers of the Opera Populaire had evaporated. All that existed was his Christine. She gently stretched out her hand for him to take.

Raoul could not continue to watch the twisted interaction. Obviously, his beloved had been placed under some kind of spell. “Don’t touch her!”

At the sound of the boy’s cries, Erik was rudely awakened from his reverie. He instinctively growled at the boy’s renewed interference before turning to speak to everyone in the great hall. “Unfortunately, dearest guests, I fear have to cut the fun short. Allow this to be a friendly warning—I will not tolerate a lack of compliance to my demands. Should anyone choose not to cooperate, they will find that the Phantom can be rather persuasive.” Then, turning his gaze to his rival, he silently uttered “À bientôt, Monsieur de Chagny.”

With that, he pulled Christine to him and disappeared in a cloud of smoke.


	18. World of Unending Night

Despite the fact that she was sitting in a relatively familiar place, Christine felt extremely disoriented. Beyond the flash of light and cloud of smoke, she had difficulty trying to distinguish what had happened. She vaguely remembered a second of freefall and a strong arm wrapped about her waist, but past that, all she could recall was darkness. For a while, she had been convinced that it was because she had fainted. She distinctly remembered being gently guided down a clandestine path by a pair of gloved hands and an eerily musical voice, however, and ultimately concluded that she hadn’t actually lost consciousness. The strangest part of it all was suddenly emerging from the all-encompassing blanket of black to arrive at a world illuminated by countless candles—a world which she had visited once before—walking behind her imposing tutor. As she gradually recalled the odd sequence of events, Christine began to find her bearings and finally looked up from where she was sitting to find that Erik was perched on a large chair opposite her, studying her reaction.

“Erik?” Her voice conveyed her bewilderment. While she had for the most part remembered what happened, she was still unsure of why he brought her to his living room. In the time that it took to clear her daze, she had become fully aware of the fact that she was sitting on the very settee in his living room that they had shared once upon a time.

“I take it you wish to know how you got here.” Erik’s voice was calm, and Christine responded with a silent nod. For some reason, she could not speak. “Very well. After having created a bit of a diversion, I plunged us into darkness and proceeded to escort you to my home through some of the many hidden passageways located under the opera house. I suppose that was rather... uncomfortable for you since you are not accustomed to being without light. I apologize for the lack of lamps or torches, but it is far safer to travel without them when journeying through the secret tunnels. I am quite adept at seeing in the dark and prefer to travel that way in order to prevent being sighted.”

“Oh.” She found herself drawing a blank until, like a great wave crashing down on her, the night's previous series of occurrences swiftly flooded her thoughts. “Why were you at the Bal Masque?”

Erik noticeably tensed at her enquiry and refused to make eye contact. “I had urgent business to attend to.”

“What kind of business?” Christine knew it was highly unusual for Erik to have wanted to make such a public appearance, especially since everyone in the crowd hated and feared him, and wondered what had been so important that he had thought it necessary to put himself in such a risky situation.

“I merely desired to converse with the managers.” Erik didn’t hesitate in answering.

“Then why make a big spectacle? Why did you start a fight with Raoul?” Her questions were asked in reproach. She had been worried about his safety and was quite upset about the fact he had put himself in a position that had practically demanded his capture.

Erik bitterly scoffed. While Christine’s tone of reprimand had been brought about by the careless manner in which he treated his own life, Erik interpreted it as anger for threatening the Vicomte. “Are you concerned that your monster of a teacher would have harmed your gallant suitor?” He barely waited for her to respond before he abruptly stood up. “Of course you are.” Shaking his head and clenching his fists, Erik began to make his way out of the room.

“Erik, wait!” Christine called after him as she stood. He paused. “You know that’s not true.” All at once, he turned around and made eye contact. Christine was startled at the fire in his gaze.

“You are mistaken, _mon ange_. If I recall correctly, you seemed to be having a wonderful time dancing with the handsome Vicomte before I made my presence known. And if that wasn’t enough to prove the verity of my statement, you just chastised me for starting a fight that the boy had desired to commence himself! Ah, but it makes little difference. Your teacher is, in fact, every bit the beast you think he is.” His last sentence was uttered with forced apathy.

“Why are you being so unreasonable? You know that Raoul is only a friend.”

“Really? I was not aware that it was common practice for friends to unabashedly kiss each other on the streets.”  At hearing his inadvertent confession to having witnessed Raoul's unwanted advance, Christine felt as if she had been struck in the stomach.  She had desperately hoped that he hadn't seen it but knew it had been for naught.

Though Erik was acting more annoyed by the kiss than anything, she could clearly sense that he was distressed and troubled by its potential significance as well.  “Erik, I swear it is not what it seemed. I was frustrated by how distant you were being and decided to accompany Raoul for tea as his friend. When he walked me back here he kissed me before I could object. It didn’t mean anything...” She trailed off and ever so silently added “I wished it had been you.”

While most normal people wouldn’t have been able to distinguish her murmured words, Erik had developed an extremely keen sense of hearing due to having lived in the intense silence of the fifth cellar for so many years. He instantly whipped his head up and locked eyes with his beautiful angel.  The flush that rose in her cheeks betrayed her embarrassment at having been heard, but her eyes told him that she had been perfectly sincere.

“ _Please…_ ” His plea erupted as a desperate, hollow rasp. Erik begged for these mad temptations to end. It was not possible for his angel to reciprocate his burning passions, and he only wished that the teasing would cease. Surely, she understood what saying those sorts of things did to him, and what remained of his poor, battered heart could not handle any more torment. Even if it would completely destroy the tattered remnants of his soul, it would be less torturous if Christine just chose the boy and left him in his world of unending night.

“Erik-” His name was the only thing that she managed to speak before her throat closed at witnessing the sheer hopelessness that had taken root in his eyes. He seemed to be supplicating for something, but for the life of her, she could not figure out what it was. “Please tell me how I can help. Is there something you need?”

His face went momentarily slack before, to her never-ending bafflement and concern, he began to hysterically laugh.

“Erik, please you’re scaring me. Is everything alright?”

Erik could not help but guffaw at the irony that stemmed from Christine asking him these questions. How appallingly hilarious that the one person he desperately needed above all else should ask him if he required anything. _I need you, Christine_. It was an unspoken truth, and the Phantom dared not vocalize it now for fear of alarming her further. Of course, he supposed he’d already done a fine job at that with his mad bout of crazed laughter. However, the thought of truly frightening her was a sobering one, and he fought to quickly regain his equanimity.

“My apologies, Christine. It’s... been a long night.” He spoke defeatedly and sighed.

“You do believe me about Raoul, don’t you?”  Erik could hear the trepidation in her voice and suddenly felt tired.  Why did he think he could ever win the heart of his Christine when it already belonged to the thrice-damned fool?

“Do not concern yourself with my opinions, my dear. You are free to do as you wish.”  His voice was once again composed, and Erik found comfort in having recovered his favored state of emotionless disinterest.

Christine was ready to scream. He unerringly put up a front of cold indifference every time he began opening up to her, and it was both infuriating and absolutely crushing.  She was growing weary of fighting his impassivity. “Why must you always be so damn difficult? I meant what I said about Raoul. He is but a close friend, and his kiss meant nothing. What more can I say for you to believe me?” While her first question was spoken loudly in anger and frustration, her final query was posed in silent dejection, and it caused Erik's traitorous heart acute pain.

“I do believe you, Christine. Please, do not be upset.” His voice was silken and soft, and she was easily soothed.

Christine nodded slowly and hesitantly approached her dark angel. Standing directly in front of him, she looked up into his cerulean eyes. In the weeks of his hellish absence, she had missed him more than she could say, and now she found herself almost sobbing because of what she perceived in his countenance. There, she rediscovered the warm, genuine tenderness that he reserved only for her and felt instantly overrun with emotions. How had she survived without his presence in her life?  She certainly could not do so again.

Without breaking eye contact, Christine gently wound her slender arms around his torso and pulled herself flush against his lean frame. When she felt him hesitantly lift his own arms and place them softly around her body, she buried her face in his chest and took a deep, shaky breath. As his spicy, clean scent filled her nose, her anxiety began to dissolve.

“Christine…” His voice was shaky and unsure. “I’m so sorry…”

“What?”

“I should not have disappeared without a word. I should not have been so distant. And I certainly should not have done what I did at the Masquerade. Please forgive me.” Misery was riddled in his voice when he spoke, and Christine couldn’t help but feel it as well.

“I’m sorry, too." His answering nod was nearly imperceivable, but she understood.  "Please don’t leave like that again. I could not bear it.” She slowly lifted her face to look up at him so that she could see him when he responded to her heartfelt plea.

“You have my word.” At noting the sincerity in his promise, Christine’s entire body slumped with relief before she buried her face in his strong chest once more.

“I love you, Erik.”

It was hardly more than a whisper, but the avowal had undoubtedly been heard.


	19. Man at Last

_I love you, Erik._

Erik was absolutely certain that he’d never heard anyone utter anything so devastatingly beautiful in the entirety of his miserable existence. With that one simple phrase, his benevolent angel granted him a momentary reprieve from the unrelenting horrors of his past and gifted him with humanity. Christine’s revelation unwittingly allowed him to feel like a man for the very first time in his life—no longer the loathsome gargoyle or the Devil’s Child, but a man. And not just any man, but a man that Christine loved!

Every time he repeated it to himself, his heart painfully skipped a beat and his breathing hitched. Nothing in his past had ever rendered him so completely powerless. His thoughts and emotions stormed through him in a wild frenzy, and the feverish onslaught was causing him to have trouble keeping himself upright. His head felt light and his body felt extraordinarily heavy, but Erik ultimately managed to remain relatively steady on his feet.

“Erik? Do you want to sit down?”

Christine’s heavenly voice pulled him out of his trance, and he quickly realized that the only reason he hadn’t yet keeled over was because he was leaning quite heavily on her petite frame. The cognizance of that fact sent his senses rushing back to him, and his body promptly recovered its ability to stand on its own. However, his brain’s frenetic state left a lot to be desired, for when he attempted to respond to her question, Erik found he could not speak.

Powerless indeed.

Instead of struggling to find a way to communicate verbally, Erik settled for simply gazing at his Christine and smirked when he noticed that they were both still in full costume from the Masquerade. He had put a considerable amount of thought and effort into the assembly of his scarlet ensemble but noted that it’s intimidating glory paled in comparison to the awe-inspiring beauty standing in front of him. Taking her in from head to toe, Erik tried to commit every magnificent detail to his memory. When his wandering eyes finally made their way to her face, he found that she appeared rather puzzled. Her chestnut-colored brows were delicately drawn together and her pretty pink lips were pouting in an endearing fashion. The innocent expression of confusion brought a tender smile to his face, and upon seeing Christine’s obviously astonished reaction to it, Erik nearly began laughing. Eventually it dawned on him that she had never before witnessed the universal expression of contentment come from him. Granted, almost nobody had ever seen him actually _smile_ , nor had he ever really had any reason to, but he still thought it rather amusing that she found it so groundbreaking. 

His answering chuckle broke the silence.

Suddenly, he was very aware of their current circumstances and had no idea what to do. Without warning, his nerves were set on fire and his senses were overwhelmed with anything and everything that dealt with Christine. As his lungs filled with her sweet scent and his body inflamed where her hands still held him, Erik felt as if his skin were too tight and his costume were suffocating him. An all-consuming blaze of desire, love, and lust charged through him, and he felt himself quickly losing his already poor grip on his facade of control. 

In that moment, Erik wanted nothing more than to push his delicate Christine up against the wall and kiss her to his heart’s mindless content. To feel her squirm against his body, to feel her soft, warm skin under his hands and mouth, to hear her soft whimpers of satisfaction, to be enveloped in her delightful aroma, to feel her hands gripping his arms, running through his hair…

 _No!_ He could not let himself disgrace the only good thing in his life, and taking her now would undoubtedly bring her dishonor. He would never knowingly cause harm to his angel, so Erik stood like a statue, frozen and stiff, in order to impede any reprehensible actions on his part. He knew that if he allowed himself to move in that moment, it would only lead to something for which she would surely hate him, and so he decided he would remain motionless until he could reign in the whirlwind of emotions ripping through him. 

§ § § § § § § § § § § § §

Christine had spent many an afternoon imagining an extensive set of scenarios concerning what could have happened when she finally expressed her feelings, but Erik’s real reaction had not been among any of them. His lack of both physical and verbal responses had been slightly disquieting, but what had truly concerned her was his sudden inability to stand on his own. Rather unexpectedly, she found herself holding up Erik’s much larger body and had no clue as to how to deal with the odd situation, so she did the only thing that came to mind and asked him if he wished to sit. Only as soon as she spoke, Erik once again stood on his own—his elegant posture fully recovered. 

His hands no longer rested on her body, and her own hands had slipped from his back to gripping his sides. She was highly confounded by his bizarre behavior and would have become even more troubled if she hadn’t suddenly found Erik smiling at her. Mirth and warmth radiated from his brilliant expression, and Christine felt as if something had reached inside of her and stole the very breath from her lungs. She then vaguely heard him chuckle, but it sounded far away as she was otherwise captivated by the heated look of hunger that had swiftly darkened Erik’s bright blue-green eyes. 

She anxiously awaited him to do something and was sorely disappointed to instead see him stand as rigidly as the statues on the opera house roof. The only reason Christine didn’t feel entirely let down was because even if Erik refused to act on it, she could still see the desperate need hidden in his pools of blue and decided that if he was not going to do anything, she most definitely could.

§ § § § § § § § § § § § §

It happened in quite literally the blink of an eye. One second, he was watching Christine’s appraisal of his sudden change in demeanor, and the next, she was practically launching herself at him. While Erik had been able to hold himself back when she was only clutching his sides, it was impossible for him to do so now as she hooked her arms around his neck and planted open-mouthed kisses on his jaw.

Hot blood raced through his veins as he ravenously returned Christine’s clumsy attentions. In an instant, she was off the ground and pressed up against his lithe form as he gripped her waist and heatedly kissed the column of her throat. Erik leaned back and groaned when he heard Christine gasp at the pleasure of his unexpected sensual onslaught. He was helpless to do anything but continue his explorations as he instinctively made his way to the nearest wall.

Once there, he pressed the full length of his hard body against hers and took her wrists in both his hands. He pushed them up and held them beside her face as he gazed into her eyes. The usual warm brown he had grown accustomed to seeing was mostly gone—her large, dark pupils taking over. A guttural moan escaped his lips at noting the reciprocated fervor in her eyes, and he hungrily attacked her mouth. Her lips were plump, sweet, and unbelievably soft, and the mere thought that the impudent Vicomte had tasted them caused Erik to growl in possessive anger. His kisses became more intense and aggressive as he attempted to claim her soul with them, but the sound of her pleasured whimpers soothed his ire. 

He slowly pulled his face away from hers as he let go of her wrists and allowed his hands to gently run up her bare shoulders and down her slender sides. Christine softly mewled at the delicious sensations overwhelming her body and wound her hands in Erik’s thick black mane. She eagerly pressed her mouth to his rapid pulse, positively elated to feel the proof of his virility and life, and began to fumble her way up his neck in order to reclaim his full, cool lips.

As she began to kiss him, she hesitantly ran her tongue over his bottom lip in a silent entreaty. Without delay, Erik opened his mouth and met her tongue with his own. While they indulgently sought each other’s tastes, their bodies began to move in an instinctive sort of dance. Christine attempted to wrap her legs around Erik’s narrow waist but found it far too difficult a task with the many layers of her dress getting in her way. She grunted in frustration as Erik leaned in and groaned in her ear—her impatient attempt apparently having had a great effect on him.

“ _Christine. Oh, Christine…_ ” It was a strangled whisper, but it sent delectable shivers running down the entirety of her spine.

Erik’s deft hands gripped her waist and pulled her to him so as to permit her to feel the unmistakeable extent his arousal. At the sensation of something hard pressing against her stomach, Christine gasped and her eyes went wide with the newfound knowledge of just how much he desired her. She tentatively wriggled against him, but quickly halted when Erik jerked and let out a throaty groan at the hollow of her neck. 

More sure of herself the second time, Christine moved with renewed purpose against his hardness and was contented to once more hear Erik’s moans of pleasure. Even as the sensations were muted because of their layered attire, everything inside of her began to tingle and burn. She wanted nothing more than to get rid of their bothersome barriers and so began to gracelessly push and pull at his clothing. 

His military style greatcoat was a challenge to remove, especially with trembling hands, but Erik smugly noticed that she had managed it well enough as it was now sitting on the floor. Her hands began to roam over his lean arms and strong back while he reached to grip the hem of her dress. He slid his hands underneath and ever so slowly began to run his musician’s fingers over her flawless flesh. Christine’s calves had been exquisitely sculpted by her many years of dancing, and Erik took pleasure in massaging them tenderly as he gently nipped and kissed her ears. 

“I love-” One of his alarms unceremoniously interrupted him, and Erik nearly howled in vexation. Someone had once again ventured too far in their senseless attempts to capture the blasted Opera Ghost.

The heat and the tenderness of the moment instantaneously evaporated. How disheartening to be reminded that he was nothing more than a monster just when he was starting to feel like a man.

Whoever it was, they would regret their ill-advised decision to try to invade his home.


	20. Stories Like This Can't Come True

Madame Giry was perfectly aware of what she was getting herself into when she cautiously began to make her way to Erik’s home. Having served him as a messenger and cordial friend for so many years had greatly added to her knowledge of the tangled subterranean passageways and the many dangers that they held. Learning how to avoid getting caught in the Phantom’s lethal traps and and prevent triggering his countless alarms had been necessary, but she figured that setting one off now may be of some use in warning him of another person’s presence. She was all too conscious of the fact that Erik had taken Christine with him when he disappeared from the Masquerade, and while she did not in the slightest suspect that they were taking part in anything indecent, she knew better than to interrupt his private moments with her without alerting him to her presence beforehand.

She could only imagine the unfathomable fit of rage he would fly into if she simply sauntered into his living room unannounced. A threat to her life would not come as a surprise.

The alarm had been set off for no more than 5 minutes when she began to feel a gripping apprehension. What if he did not get a chance to see who she was before he whipped out his lasso and snapped her neck? Or worse, what if he did see, but decided to kill her anyway? Had she made a mistake in coming down here? As the questions began to overpower her senses, she felt herself begin to panic.

_Get a hold of yourself, Antoinette. You’ll do yourself more harm than good._

“How considerate of you to pay me a visit, Madame. To what do I owe this singular honor?” With deliberate malice, he threw his voice in a way that would fill the entirety of the tunnel and shockingly break the discomfiting silence.

Her heart had nearly lept out of her chest at the sound of his voice surrounding her in the darkness, and she had momentarily feared that she would faint. She violently turned her head in all directions to try to spot her stalker to no avail. Gradually, her heart rate slowed, and she recognized the fact that he had indeed spoken.

“P-pardon?” She hated herself for allowing her simple question to falter but nevertheless held her head high.

“Speak your business and leave. I have no patience for insipid babbling.” The curt words were spoken such that his aggravation was almost palpable, leaving a dark, tense feeling in the air.

In a matter of seconds, Madame Giry went from being rightfully intimidated by his manner to being righteously inflamed by his brusque response and intentionally belligerent attitude. “You really never fail to impress with your boorish behavior, Erik. Tell me, do you talk to Christine in this manner as well? I am certain she would revel in the knowledge that her beloved teacher behaves as an ill-mannered brute towards her esteemed guardian.”

“Do not speak to me of Christine, you insufferable harridan! Need I remind you that you are the one who chose to wander down here uninvited and interrupt my precious moments of peace? Did you truly expect a warm welcome upon interrupting my privacy?” Erik was now visibly livid but spoke with a deadly sort of calm. “Now Madame, if you may, _why_ are you here?”

“He is looking for you.” There was no need for her to elaborate, for Erik already knew of whom she spoke.

“The damned boy.” The words dripped with thick, bitter loathing.

“He approached me after you made your _grand_ appearance. He wished to know everything I knew about you, though I told him nothing more than common knowledge. After our brief conversation, he went in search of the managers. I do believe he was speaking of getting officials involved, seeing as he thinks you kidnapped Christine.”

“To hell with what he thinks! Let him come for me, he’ll never succeed.”

“No, Erik. You must take this seriously. You could get hurt, or worse Christine could come to harm! Surely you do not wish for her to become involved in your dimwitted war of territory.”

“You know perfectly well that I would never let anything happen to her.”

“Well then, have you considered what sort of pain would arise from losing you? She adores you, Erik. If you won’t take care of yourself for your own sake, do it for hers. She would be destroyed if you were captured or killed.” This statement seemed to have reached beyond his usually impenetrable barrier of angry pride, and his usual imposing demeanor diminished by a fraction.

“I will return her to the opera house, then, since it seems fate will not retire its cruelty.” His voice was flat and emotionless as he turned on his heel and melded with the shadows.

“God help them...” Madame Giry whispered to no one in particular. She stood in the dark for a moment longer before she remembered herself and began the long trek back to the world.

§ § § § § § § § § § § § §

Christine was standing alone, fidgeting with her costume, when Erik reappeared in front of her. With his shoulders rigid, his hands clenched into fists, his eyes hard, and his breathing unbearably controlled, tension radiated off of him in waves.

“Erik?” Her voice slipped out as little more than a squeak.

“Come. You must return.” Her heart nearly shattered at hearing the renewed detachment in his voice, but she decided that she wouldn’t let him slip through her fingers this time. She _couldn’t_.

“No.” Erik had already been in the process of walking away from her with the assumption that she would follow when he heard her protest. With a speed that had Christine reeling, he turned around and covered the few paces that separated them.

“Christine, I do not have time for childish games. You will return, and you will do it now.”

 _Childish!_ She absolutely hated it when he referred to her as a child. Unconsciously, Christine puffed up her chest and changed her stance in preparation for an argument—she was _seething_. Of course she knew her exasperation arose from far more than an adjective spoken in haste, but she didn’t care.

“How _dare_ you?” Erik almost took a step back at hearing the concentrated fury powering her usually sweet voice. “Do not lecture me about behaving like a child, Erik. You have no right! I am as much an adult as anyone else, and I demand to know why it is that you are so decided on coldly dismissing me from your home.” She was visibly shaking with emotion but pointedly ignored it.

“Demand, hmm? I do not believe you are in the position to be making any demands, mon ange. Now, as surely as I would love to continue such inane discussion, we do not have the time. We must go.” Once again Erik made to leave as Christine stood defiantly in her place.

Erik knew she was not following him and, without turning around, uttered what would be his one and only warning. “If you do not follow me willingly, I will throw you over my shoulder and carry you back myself.”

“You wouldn’t.” Christine spoke with far more confidence than she felt. She was very aware of what he was capable of, and while he was certainly strong enough to do it, she naively hoped that he wouldn’t presume to touch her in that manner.

“Wouldn’t I?” He had turned to look at her with a devilish grin on his face. The bawdy expression sent pleasured shivers through her body that she fought hard to suppress.

The sensation rudely reminded her of what they had shared before they were interrupted and caused her to lose the desire to argue. “Please, Erik. Just tell me what’s going on.” The defeated pleading in her voice swiftly undid him.

“I’m afraid your boy has convinced the managers that hunting me down is a necessary course of action. He’s convinced that I have kidnapped you and now has every intention of involving the gendarmes.” His tone was indifferent, but Christine knew this distressed him extensively, especially because this was all due to Raoul’s attachment to her.

“I can talk to him. I can convince him that it’s not necessary. I can tell him to just leave us alone.”

“No, Christine. That will only harden his resolve to capture me. No one would ever believe that I’m anything more than a monster, and they would undoubtedly think you either delusional or under a spell.” He was now visibly despondent—his hard posture softened, his hands hung limply at his sides, and his gaze was cast down to the floor.

“There must be something we can do.”

“You must return. At least then, they will dismiss the idea of you having been kidnapped.” He had, as always, recovered a plane of indifference.

“Erik, please don’t do this…”

“I will not keep you down here and have everyone think you’ve been taken against your will, Christine. You must return as soon as possible.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Christine was speaking of his incessant need to be nonchalant about everything.

Upon realizing that she was not going to elaborate, Erik spoke. “I find that I do not have patience for cryptic conversations at the moment, so you will forgive me if I demand that you explain.”

“Why must you always erect an impassable wall of apathy after you begin to open up to me?”

Erik was not at all prepared to answer that question, nor was he ready for the conversation that would assuredly follow. “Christine…” He spoke the name with an edge, wordlessly warning her not to pursue the fragile topic.

“No, Erik. You will not turn from me now.” Her face was firm in determination, but her voice belied her helplessness.

He sighed. A quick, vague explanation would have to satisfy her for now. “It is not your fault, Christine. It is merely reflex. Now, please, we really must return.” His eyes begged her not to push the subject.

She hesitated before biting her lip and nodding. _I will not cry_.

He had started to walk away as she quickly made her way to his side. Looking up at him, she could see he was irrefutably angered and disconcerted by their situation.

Gently, she slid her hand into his. He paused his stride and instantly turned his eyes down to hers, his countenance softening at her look of uncertainty. He continued to gaze into her eyes as he tenderly twined his fingers with hers and bent down to delicately kiss her cheek.

She reveled in the feel of his cool lips on her face and basked in the warmth of his returned affection. God, how she loved this impossible man!

The rest of the way was traveled in silence, for both Erik and Christine were deep in thought about what was to come. When they finally arrived to their beloved chapel, she refused to let go of his hand.

“You must go, Christine. You must let go…” His voice was strained yet unbearably kind.

“I’m afraid.” Christine’s anxiety had continually mounted as they approached their destination and was now at its painful peak. The thought of Erik being caught terrified her.

“There is nothing to fear, mon ange. Everything will be alright.” He softly squeezed her fingers with one hand while he cradled her head with the other and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead.

Feeling assured and empowered by Erik’s confidence and warm gestures, Christine reluctantly let go of his hand and stepped into the chapel. However, when she turned around to say goodbye and found he was already gone, her momentary confidence dissipated. Suffocating dread tightened her lungs and sharpened her senses.

As she stared at the empty space where Erik once stood, she sensed what he already knew—everything would not be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do not fear, this is not the end for our tortured Phantom and his beautiful Christine.


	21. Unending Trials

The next day’s arrival served to remind Christine that time will always ruthlessly move forward, no matter how much she hoped otherwise. Hours upon hours had come and passed entirely unnoticed as she spent the night trying to get a hold on the crazy thoughts going through her head. How could she hope to find sleep after such a chaotic storm of events? In a single night, she had finally recovered the coveted presence of her teacher, watched him challenge her childhood friend in a swordfight, blindly followed him to his home, professed her love, shared in heated kisses and touches, learned that her friend wanted to get her beloved arrested, and was inevitably forced to return to the opera house. It all made for a frenetic slew of events, and while they should have exhausted Christine, she found that a select few moments from the last twelve hours would not allow her to sleep. Specifically, her private moments with Erik—God, the mere thought of them made her skin burn!

After the first time she had experienced Erik’s passion, she had barely managed to get through rehearsals. Now, after her most recent encounter with his ardent mouth and wandering hands, she was quite certain that she would be driven to madness. All night long, the memory of his lips and fingers had her writhing and panting with unfulfilled desire until her heated blood was abruptly chilled by the recollection of what led her to be alone in her own bed. A rush of cold darkness would wash over her as her heated thoughts were replaced with those of what her life would be like if Erik were to be caught. If she were never to hear his voice or bask in his magnificent genius again, she knew beyond any doubt that she would wither away. After all, her passion and spirit had been awakened by Erik and would naturally die in his absence. It was a savage cycle of helpless arousal and crippling trepidation, and she found herself wishing that time would just pause and give her mind a chance to process everything and consider her future course of action.

Evidently, it was a fruitless longing. The morning light creeping into the dormitory was proof enough of that.

With this new day, plenty of trials were bound to arise, and the blessed time to act was fast approaching. Christine resolved to focus solely on making sure Erik would come out of this ordeal unharmed because if she allowed herself to even momentarily consider that he very well may not, she would begin to panic. Ultimately, she knew she would be of no use if she permitted her fears to hold her in place, so she determinedly pushed her dark thoughts away and braced herself as she got up from her bed.

Quickly, Christine fetched a pitcher of water, soap, and a cloth and bathed as fast as she could. Eventually, Meg and the rest of the girls would wake up, and she wanted to be dressed and gone by the time that they did. She was well aware that the Masquerade was going to be the main topic of discussion and had positively no desire to answer any of their pestering questions—which would all undoubtedly revolve around the Opera Ghost and the Vicomte, a topic that she longed to avoid. She hardly knew what had happened herself! Even if she had wanted to, there was no way she would be able to provide them with any satisfactory answers and that would only lead to more annoying conversation. Hence, without pause, she hastily brushed out her irksome curls, threw on a clean chemise and dress, and raced away from the dormitories in search of the one person who may have any advice.

“Madame Giry?” Christine softly spoke as she knocked at her guardian’s office door.

“Come in, Christine.” Madame Giry had been waiting for her knock for a little over an hour and was relieved to finally be able to have a conversation with her charge.

“Oh Madame, it’s terrible! Raoul wants to find Erik and wants the gendarmes to arrest him! We have to find a way to stop him. He can’t take Erik. He _can’t_. I won’t let him!”

“Calm yourself, child. I’m sure your teacher has already come up with some ridiculous scheme to prevent his capture.”

“Wait, so you know?!” Christine had expected to be buried in a rush of questions.

“I am the one who alerted Erik to the situation, my dear.” Madame Giry was the epitome of composure. While Christine was practically on the brink of running around screaming, Madame kept her head about her shoulders.

“What are we going to do?! Can’t I just tell Raoul to stay away from Erik?”

“Oh Christine, don’t be foolish. After the display at the Masquerade, your dear admirer has become rather convinced that the wicked Phantom has you under some kind of spell. If you approached him in a frenzy to rant and beg, he would only be cemented in his false suspicions. I’m afraid this situation calls for a bit of discretion.”

“But surely there must be something we can do to help. I will not stand by as Raoul recruits half of Paris to hunt Erik down.”

“Perhaps there is something, but it would not bode well for anyone to rush into things, Christine. This could develop into a dangerous situation, and your teacher would not stand for you to be put in harm’s way. I promise we will find some way to help, but you must keep your wits about you, do you understand?”

“Yes, Madame.”

“Good. Now, join the rest of the girl’s at breakfast. Perhaps a day spent in familiar company will help you see that nothing is truly as grave as you think. I do understand this is hard, ma fille, but I expect to see you ready and attentive at practice. I will not stand for any more of this silly daydreaming you seem to have taken up.”

Blushing, Christine mutely nodded and left the Madame’s office to do as she was bid.

§ § § § § § § § § § § § §

Five levels below Christine’s feet, Erik sat at the desk in his study. He had played his organ all through the night and had only stopped when he realized his fingers were beginning to bruise swell from the incessant pounding. However, his hands were nothing more than a shadow of an afterthought as the previous night’s events and revelations had taken precedence in his mind. Too much had happened at once for his comfort, and the wild whirl of mayhem had only left him with the horrid realization that he was no longer in his preferred position of control. Of course, as in all things, the Phantom would find a way to regain the upper hand, but for the moment, he felt detestably vulnerable.

That bloody Vicomte, who was irritatingly determined to constantly intervene in his and Christine's affairs, had finally decided to come after him. All this time, he had let the boy get away with his unabating romantic pursuit because, even if it would have broken him, there had remained a chance that his angel housed feelings for the fool, and Erik had no desire to rob her of potential happiness. Nevertheless, things were different now. Erik truly was a selfish man in most things, and since the moment Christine had told him she loved him, he knew that he could never allow any man other than himself to have her. Besides, his angel’s amorous admission had obliterated any formerly existing reasons to permit the intolerable little cretin to continue meddling with his beloved. No, now he would know that Christine was his! Everyone would!

He had been orchestrating an elaborate plan since he first sat at his desk, but as time passed, his usual handwriting had become little more than unintelligible scribbles. His undeniable genius was flowing fully, but the slight insanity that had developed from a life of solitude and abuse was beginning to rear its head after years of remaining dormant. Christine’s presence in his life had done wonders to soothe his bouts of madness, especially in the time since he had revealed himself as a man, but now that everything was at risk and out of his hands, his mania had decided that it was time to make an unwanted appearance. His inability to act and be fully in control of the situation was negatively impacting his somewhat fragile hold on sanity.

Ideas, worries, memories, and fantasies were all swirling about in his head with little concern for order. In the hours that his mind had become slightly unhinged, he occasionally fretted that the entire exchange he had shared with Christine after the Masquerade was all in his imagination. The only thing that kept him grounded was the very real memory of her warm embrace and kind, inviting eyes. _I will not be ripped away from my Christine, not now!_ But how would he prevent it? How on earth was he, a single man, going to stop the mad mobs of people and officials that were sure to storm his opera house?

 _My opera!_ The idea struck Erik like a bolt of lightning.

Don Juan Triumphant provided both a perfect opportunity to show the world that the beautiful Mademoiselle Daaé was his and and the ideal set of circumstances to stage his own dramatic death. _Yes, yes! It will be a story fit for the most tragic of operas! How fitting for the Phantom and his star pupil._ Erik thought wryly as he engineered everything down to the final detail in his mind.

Most importantly, he would have to personally deliver his score to the blabbering managers and ensure that preparations for his hellish production would begin immediately. Let the arrogant patron protest all he likes, the Opera Ghost would ultimately have his way. Only then would he proceed to disclose his schemes to the only people who would dare to help him—Christine, Madame Giry, and maybe even the nosy Daroga.

 _Let the games begin!_ Erik stood from his chair and began his trek to the world above.


	22. Here, I Bring the Finished Score

“It seems our patron has taken a particular liking to the Daaé girl...” Monsieur Firmin was not fond of the fact that the dancer-turned-singer seemed to have captured the nobleman’s attention. Why were people so interested in her? Yes, she was pretty, but aside from that, she seemed perfectly average to him. She bloody well wasn’t worth all the attention she was getting!

“You don’t think they…” There was no need for him to finish his sentence. André seemed to think that nearly everything involved either sex or sexual favors and saw no reason to exclude the Vicomte or the pretty brown-haired girl from his belief. After all, that’s how he got along with so many of the ballet girls himself. They all seemed eager to please, so why should she be any different?

“I don’t know. Perhaps. I don’t see why else he should care so much. He just met her, for Christ’s sake!” Last night, after the fiasco at the Masquerade, the honorable Vicomte had approached them with orders to seek out and arrest the masked villain. He had gone mad—stumbling over his words, sweat on his brow, hands slightly shaking, brows drawn together in a frown, a desperate look in his eyes. Firmin had been sorely tempted to shake some sense into the man, but feared offending him and risking the loss of his money. Instead, he calmly reassured him that they would do all they could to catch the supposed Opera Ghost and throw him behind bars. At the time, Firmin hadn’t really thought it was anything more than an elaborate hoax performed by someone who wished to pose a threat to the Opera Populaire. He had merely been trying to placate the wealthy nobleman.

“Well then, they must have become quite well-acquainted, if you catch my meaning.” Monsieur André winked and chortled at his own naughty implications. The previous night, he had been getting ‘well-acquainted’ with a dancer himself and had missed much of the crazed action. When he did finally return to the main hall, he had only been able to watch the curly-haired dancer and the man in red disappear in a sudden cloud of smoke.

“Heh. Yes, maybe she’s just as loose as the rest of them.” Firmin was glad that his partner was taking the situation just about as seriously as he was this morning. Last night’s dealings had been far too serious for his disposition.

“Maybe I could solicit some favors. I could certainly do more for her career than our beloved patron!” At this, Firmin laughed outright. André seemed convinced that he could sleep with anyone and everyone who worked for him. His ill-behaved companion soon joined in, and the two men laughed merrily as they sat in their office, putting off their work.

Neither of them noticed the tall figure that had snuck into their space through the use of a hidden entrance in a wall panel.

“That would all be rather difficult if you were castrated, no?”

Both men nearly choked on their laughter at the sound of a powerful voice filling the room. At the severely frightened looks on their paled faces, Erik began to chuckle himself. He had forgotten how pleasurable it was to shock the senseless idiots.

“Who-who is that? Where are you?” For someone who had been so confident that the Opera Ghost was not real, Firmin was trembling quite a lot.

“Ah, Richard. If I told you, that would take away all the fun, wouldn’t it? This chasing game that you imbeciles have decided to begin would be over far too soon.” Whoever it was, Firmin could tell he was not a normal man. His voice was hauntingly smooth and filled simultaneously with an odd sort of amusement and palpable anger.

“The-the Vicomte...he...he-” Firmin was unceremoniously cut off as he tried to explain that the proposed hunt had not been their idea.

“Cease with your vapid prattle.” The tall manager quickly shut his gaping mouth. He still could not tell where the voice was coming from and had taken to wildly looking about the room. “I am here, gentlemen, on a matter of business.”

“Monsieur, you should show yourself. Surely you do not intend to conduct business like this?” André was too daft to know when to hold his tongue. Both managers, however, became rather confused when the disembodied voice began to laugh.

“Forgive me for laughing, Gilles, but the irony in your desire to conduct business properly is far too hilarious. Formal negotiations, hmm? For a man with a predisposition to carry out such dealings with his trousers around his ankles, you seem quite outspoken on the matter.” André swiftly joined his friend in silence.

“Now… you will listen very carefully, gentlemen, for I will only say all of this once.” As they frantically nodded, Erik continued. “I have written you an opera! The people of Paris certainly don’t deserve to bask in its grandeur, but alas, I will allow you to perform it since I am a generous man.” The managers worriedly glanced at each other.

“W-well… perhaps we could work it into ne-next season…” Firmin had been the one to speak and was once again cut off before he could finish.

“No. Production is to commence immediately. I expect the opera to be ready to premier in a month.” The man spoke so irritatingly casually that it was beginning to bother Firmin. Whoever he was, he didn’t own this damned place! He couldn’t tell them what to do.

“A month! You cannot be serious. Monsieur, that is absurd. We will do no such thing.”

“It is in your best interest, Richard, to not contradict anything I say. You see, I am a rather impatient man with a nasty temper. If you wish to remain unharmed and prevent any unforeseeable disasters, you will begin building the scenes, sewing the costumes, and learning the music as soon as this afternoon. As for the casting, I will not stand for my masterpiece to be ruined by that miserable Italian cow. Mademoiselle Daaé will sing the part of the female lead. I do not care what you do with the rest of roles. I will periodically check in on the progress of my work, and if I find anything to be unsatisfactory, you will be informed.” After a pause allowing for the managers to absorb the information, the Opera Ghost issued his last threat. “Do not disappoint me, messieurs. If you should choose to not follow my instructions, you will find that I am remarkably capable of wreaking havoc and destruction.” As he spoke the last word, he snuck back out through the panel in the dark corner of the room where he had remained throughout the entire meeting.

“We do not even have the score!” Firmin gritted his teeth as he realized the voice had already gone.

“Richard…” André spoke quietly as he picked up a leather-bound bundle of papers sitting on his desk. “Don Juan Triumphant.”

§ § § § § § § § § § § § §

Christine went to sit in the opera house chapel after her last practice of the day had finished. She didn’t really know if she expected to find Erik, but she needed to get away from all of the endless chatter. As predicted, Meg had attacked her with what seemed like a thousand questions about her teacher, the Vicomte, and everything that had happened after the Masquerade. She had answered as best as she could but knew that her dearest friend had found her responses lacking. Of course, Meg hadn’t been the only one with questions, but Christine had taken to answering the rest of the ballet girls as vaguely as possible. Soon after realizing that their friend wasn’t going to give them any interesting information, the young dancers opted for talking about the drama amongst themselves.

By the time their last practice was over, Christine’s head had begun to throb. Amongst the physically draining dancing, the surrounding gossip, the anxiety of the previous night, and the fear of the near future, it had truly been a miracle that she had remained conscious and aware. She hadn’t felt Erik’s presence or heard his voice all day, and it had become a source of unease. She had been relieved to find that there weren’t any gendarmes wandering about the building, but did remember feeling slight apprehension when she noted that the stagehands had been bustling about far more than they usually did. They seemed to be busy working on some new assignment, which Christine had thought was strange since work for their next season wasn’t scheduled to start for months.

“ _Christine, Christine…_ ” The warm velvet of her teacher’s beautiful singing washed over her and awakened her from her thoughts.

“Erik!” A broad, bright smile illuminated her face as she watched him step out from the shadows. He was clad in his usual impeccable black suit and brilliantly white mask. She acted before thinking as she practically jumped up from the floor and and flew across the room to throw her arms around his lean torso. She fondly nuzzled his chest and smiled as she heard his chuckle and felt his muscles slowly relaxing. God, had it really been only yesterday that she had been with him? It felt like ages.

“I do not think I will ever grow used to your embraces, mon ange.” He slowly wrapped his own arms around her small frame and gently pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Christine blushed as she fully realized what she had done and reluctantly pulled away.

“I didn’t see any gendarmes today, but it does seem that the stagehands are busy with something. Did Madame mention anything about them being involved in Raoul’s plan?” Erik lightly laughed.

“It appears the managers are not as dimwitted as they seem,” Erik said with a smug smirk on his face.

“What do you mean?” Christine had no idea what he was talking about. For as long as she had known him, he had always referred to them as incompetent idiots. She didn’t see why he should suddenly change his mind.

“What I mean, Christine, is that they seem to be following my orders for the moment. I paid them a friendly visit this morning to discuss some pertinent business and deliver the score for my life’s greatest work.”

“Don Juan Triumphant?” She had only ever heard him mention it once before, but when she had asked him about it, he had seemed oddly resistant to talk about it.

“The very same.”

“I don’t understand. Why would you give them your score? What does that have to do with anything?”

“The reason the stagehands were busy today is because the production for my opera is now underway. It is set to open in a month, and it is how I plan to solve the altercation with the Vicomte.” While his voice had remained as cool as it usually was, Erik’s eyes suddenly seemed slightly crazed, and Christine found it extremely unsettling.

“What? How?”

“My death, Christine! That insolent boy will not stop hunting me down until he has either caught me or believes me dead, and since the former is not an option, you will help me to achieve the latter.” Horrified by what he was implying, she took a step back.

“You want me to help you die?” Her voice was trembling.

“No! No. I would _never_ ask you for such a thing. I simply wish for you to assist me in staging a false death. I have no desire to play a game of cat and mouse for the rest of my life, and this is the best way to end it.”

Slowly, Christine nodded. “D'accord. How can I help?”

“For now, it will be most productive for you to behave as if nothing has changed around your friends. The Vicomte will be the hardest to convince, but you must make him believe that you are not under my supposedly nefarious influence. However, it is absolutely imperative that you say as little as possible concerning me, Christine. If he should come to learn that you are in any way attached, his drive to hunt me down will undoubtedly increase. He may even be tempted to take you away from the opera house.”

“I would never let him!”

“You would have little say in the matter, I’m afraid. You will have a very important role to play in all of this, mon ange, and that is why it is crucial for him to believe that you are fine and everything is normal.”

“How can I do that?”

“Ah, I am certain you will think of something. Perhaps you could let him take you out to tea again.” While his suggestion was sincere, Christine could tell that he was not at all fond of the idea. Raoul’s unwarranted kiss had been and still was a sore spot for her beloved teacher.

“I’ll be more wary, Erik. I promise. I only want to help.”

“I know.” Erik broke the eye contact and looked down.

Christine quietly approached him and stood on her toes as she gently pressed a kiss to his cheek and wound her hands around his neck. She lightly ran her soft lips over his face and gradually made her way to his ear. Once there, she whispered softly. “Goodnight, Erik.”

She smiled as she felt him shiver and saw him close his beautiful eyes. She loved knowing that she had such a profound effect on him.

“Goodnight, Christine.” He barely managed to choke out his words as he reopened his eyes. She quickly pecked his cheek again and let her arms slowly fall back to her sides. As she stepped back, she gave him one last reassuring smile before she turned and left.


	23. Christine, Christine, Don't Think That I Don't Care

No more than three days had passed before Christine saw the first sign of Paris officials skulking about the opera house. She had been carelessly running down the corridor in order to avoid being late to that morning’s practice when she ran head first into a large man as she turned a corner. Embarrassed and flustered, she had started to apologize but stopped mid-phrase when she looked up and saw his unfamiliar face. He must have noticed her immediate confusion because he quickly explained that he was just taking a look around. He had then gently cleared his throat as he excused himself and moved past.

At the time, she hadn’t had much of a chance to think about the odd encounter, for she had recalled why she’d been running in the first place and again rushed to practice. She had nearly forgotten about the entire incident when she overheard another dancer say something about seeing a strange man lurking about those parts of the opera house that the general public never entered. When Christine later questioned the girl about the man’s appearance, she had been somewhat surprised to hear her describe an entirely different man than the one she had seen earlier. Eventually, however, it had dawned on Christine that the stranger she had ungraciously bumped into hadn’t been the lone eccentric that she had originally thought he was. In fact, he was probably neither alone nor weird. She realized with dismay that he was most likely with the police and that the other man was probably a fellow officer.

Her first instinct had been to run to Erik and warn him of the intruders, but quickly remembered that finding him would be impossible. She hadn’t seen him since that night in the chapel when he had advised her to behave as if nothing had changed, and now, she had no way to find him. Madame Giry kindly assured her that he most likely already knew of the men’s presence and that she should just do as he instructed. While Erik’s instruction to pretend that everything was normal had seemed simple enough at the time, she now knew how truly absurd a request it was.

The managers had announced the the opening of the new opera only two days ago, and already Christine was being treated differently. Despite the fact that Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur André had not mentioned her directly in their announcement to the company, the cast and crew quickly learned that she was already set to play the part of the female lead. Monsieur Reyer hadn’t been bothered by the managers’ demand—he had heard her sing before and thought she was quite good—but the rest of the dancers and actors seemed to feel differently, especially la Carlotta. Since the casting for Don Juan Triumphant was officially made public, the italian diva had become an oppressive force of temper tantrums and whiny screeching. If Christine hadn’t already learned to efficiently ignore her, Carlotta’s endless badgering surely would have driven her to violence. Nevertheless, the miserable woman was truly proving to be the least of Christine’s problems.

For as long as she had been residing in Paris, Christine had lived and worked among the other dancers of the opera house. They had become her closest friends, and as she grew up, she had grown to love the constant familiarity and physically-taxing routine that came with being part of the corps de ballet. Now, however, she no longer had those daily comforts to look forward to. Due to what she was sure was Erik’s interference, she had been placed in the role of Aminta and consequently excused from the corps. At first, she had been thrilled about the opportunity to finally sing in an opera as a prima donna instead of a substitute, but she hadn’t yet realized how different life would be. It didn't truly become clear until Madame Giry told her that she was not to attend the ballet’s regular practices or rehearsals. Inevitably, she no longer saw Meg or any of her other friends nearly as much as she used to, and she was beginning to feel acutely lonely. Not only did she lose the constant contact with her friends, but Erik was no longer meeting her for their lessons as he was occupied with more important tasks, her fellow actors hadn’t been particularly friendly since the start of rehearsals, and even Madame Giry was kept busy with orchestrating the new choreography. For the first time in over a decade, Christine was beginning to feel truly and hopelessly alone.

§ § § § § § § § § § § § §

Looking back, Christine liked to think that her instinctual reaction to turn to Raoul for company had not been entirely her fault. He had never been anything but kind, and after the Masquerade, his caring nature had only magnified as he had taken to actively asking after her well being. The Vicomte seemed to be the only one at the Opera Populaire who had any semblance of free time and a genuine desire to be her friend. In the hollow loneliness that had been threatening to consume her, Raoul’s warmth and kindness had drawn her like a moth to a flame. To her, the comfort and companionship he offered were much like water in a desert, and Christine was only human after all.

It had all started a little over a week after the rehearsals for Erik’s opera had begun. She had been having lunch by herself, as she had become accustomed to doing since starting her new role as prima donna, when she had heard her childhood friend speaking in the distance. Relief had instantly flooded her gloomy heart. Finally, a familiar face! In that moment, it hadn’t mattered that he was her angel’s worst enemy—Raoul had been a beacon of warmth since she had met him as a child, and she merely wanted to bask in his light-hearted company and sincere empathy. After he had finished his discussion with Firmin, he had made his way into the dining area, and upon having made eye contact with her, smiled as brightly as always. Christine had greedily drunk in the coveted sight as she returned his smile and gently waved. They had exchanged little more than simple pleasantries that afternoon, but, for Christine, it had been nothing short of miraculous.

Since then, he had tried to see her as often as possible, usually arriving during the time that she took her lunch. Their easy friendship had been quickly recovered, and they mutually found contentedness in the other’s presence and conversation. Christine had forgotten how easy it was to talk to and be with Raoul. He was so perfectly uncomplicated—a stark opposite to the dark mystery that was Erik. Conversation flowed easily between the two of them, and Christine found that she enjoyed the lack of tension in almost all of their interactions. The only time their conversation had become strained was the single instance in which Raoul spoke of the incident at the Masquerade. When he had brought it up, Christine’s eyes had turned hard, and she had brusquely brushed his comments and questions aside. She had cut their time together short that day, and Raoul had since determined that he would pretend the whole fiasco had never happened, if only for the sake of not losing his dear friend.

Now, as Christine enjoyed another meal shared with her childhood friend, she could not stop her thoughts from wandering to Erik and the officers that were still hanging around her place of work. When she was not rehearsing, it was not uncommon for her thoughts to be occupied by her teacher and his precarious safety. The whole situation was far too uncertain for her comfort, and she wished that she could do more to help. She looked up from her plate and made eye contact with Raoul. Maybe he could be of assistance…

“Have you seen those strange men that go around backstage, watching all of us?” Christine figured that as patron, her friend would have to know more than she did.

“Oh, yes. I can assure you they’re perfectly harmless, Little Lotte. No need to worry.”

“But why are they here? Isn’t it a bit bizarre? I ran into one about a week ago, and he said he was just looking around, but I’ve seen him almost everyday since!” She was trying hard to keep her tone curious instead of concerned—she couldn’t give Raoul any reason to be suspicious of her motives. It was truly all that she could do for Erik.

Raoul quickly glanced around, then leaned forward as if to divulge some great secret. “Well I’m not really supposed to say anything to anyone, but if you must know, they’re with the préfecture. They were hired to find the elusive Opera Ghost.”

Her throat suddenly felt extremely dry, and she tried her best to nod and smirk conspiratorially before speaking. “Do you know if they’ve found anything?”

“Not that I know of, but I haven’t spoken to them directly.” Raoul was becoming noticeably put off by the topic of conversation.

Christine had no idea how to respond. She was extremely relieved to know that no one had come any closer to discovering Erik, but she knew that her friend would not feel the same way. After a moment, she settled for a simple nod.

“Christine, I know that this is something you do not wish to speak of, but I really must ask. Who is that man that poses as a menacing phantom?” The Vicomte’s tone was somber and concerned as if he truly had no desire to enquire, but did so out of duty.

“He is exactly that. A man, nothing more, nothing less.” Her tone was clipped.

“But why does he know you? Why did you go him the night of the Masquerade? He could have harmed you, Christine! He tried to kill me!”

His accusing tone slightly angered her. “He only meant to frighten you, Raoul. And you have no cause to be concerned for my sake. He would never hurt me.”

“How could you possibly know that he wouldn’t draw a sword on you, the way he did to me? Who is he?”

“You should not concern yourself with him, Raoul. Truly, it is a waste of time.” Christine tried to be patient as she evaded his questions—she knew he was only worried.

“How can you say that? The man is clearly deranged. He’s been tormenting and terrorizing the people of this opera house for years, Christine!”

She sighed. She knew she was not going to get anywhere with him, but a part of her had hoped he would listen. Unfortunately, it was becoming clear that there was nothing she could say that would make him put an end to his search.

“You don’t understand, Raoul, and I suspect you never will. He is not the monster that you seem to think he is, and he's so much more than a man who likes to play practical jokes. He’s a genius! I have never met anyone with such a vast scope of knowledge and talents. And he's kind, Raoul. Truly, he is. After all that I know and suspect he has been through, he has kept an unbelievably tender heart.” As she spoke, her eyes sparkled and her face took on a soft glow. Every phrase was spoken in warm reverence. The sum of Christine's behavior brought about a realization that caused the Vicomte acute pain.

She was infatuated.

“You think you’re in love with him…”

She would’ve been more upset at the fact that he had so easily perceived her affection had her mind not been hung up on one little word. _Think!? Think myself in love? Bastard! As if I wasn’t mature enough to know the depth and sincerity of my own feelings!_ With one phrase, Raoul had managed to raise her ire to unfathomable heights.

“Do _not_ patronize me. You could not possibly pretend to know what goes on in my head or in my heart.” Her eyes were ablaze with dark fury.

“So you do! Oh God. Christine, whatever he’s done to you, I can help. We can fix this.”

“ _Fix_ this? There’s nothing to fix, Raoul! Why must you always think I need your help? Everything was perfect before you came.”

“Perfect? The only reason you feel that way is because he has manipulated you. The man makes a living out of extortion! And from what I hear, he seems to take pleasure out of frightening and threatening others! Why the devil are you defending him?”

“Because you know nothing! I am not so pliable and weak to be so strongly manipulated, as you so clearly believe me to be. He’s never caused anyone any real harm, and the opera staff loves his trickery! They enjoy the mystery and thrill of the ghost just as much as he does.”

“But why, Christine? Why do you care about him so much?” Raoul felt defeated.

“He was there for me when I needed someone, and has been there ever since. For over a decade, he’s been a dear friend and a perfecting teacher. He is my Angel of Music, Raoul. Not some terroristic ghost.”

 _Angel of Music?_ The familiar title set off warning bells in the young man’s mind. He remembered her father having promised her something of that sort when he had been on the cusp of death. Did she believe that the masked fiend was an angel sent from her father? If she did, the manipulation went much farther back than he had originally anticipated. _Had she said a decade?_ That meant he had taken advantage of her when she was a mere child!

Caution be damned. He would catch this twisted villain even if it took his last breath, and he would do it with or without Christine’s approval. Clearly, she was already entranced and had been for years.

“He is no angel, Little Lotte. And I will catch him, if only to make you see that he’s preyed upon your open, compassionate ways to have you twisted around his little finger.”

“No! Please, I sincerely do not wish to lose your friendship, Raoul... but if you do this, I’ll never forgive you.”

“If it means saving you from being blindly caged, then so be it. Don't you understand? He’s slowly imprisoned you here while making you believe that you’re free. I won’t stand for it.”

“I’m not imprisoned here.”

“Then come live with my family for a little while. Get out of this toxic place and away from his influence. _Please_ , Christine.” The Vicomte’s eyes begged, his entire demeanor pleading.

“I can’t.”

“Don’t you see?”

“This has nothing to do with him. I have to be present for rehearsals! I’m the lead now, and I can’t afford not to be here.”

“Right, and how is it that you came to be in this new role?”

Christine couldn’t answer.

“Ah, I know. He placed you there! Firmin and André told me all about his little visit.”

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve dreamt of being a prima donna, Raoul? It’s been a fantasy of mine for as long as I can remember! He single-handedly made it all a reality for me, and I will forever be grateful.”

“ _Christine_ , God, why can’t you _see_? He’s baited you with your greatest desire as a way to keep you under his control!” Raoul’s voice had never sounded so strained.

“Why do you think him so incapable of doing this for me without the presence of some hidden, wicked motives? Have you ever considered that what he does, he does out of _love_? Out of _friendship_? He could not have possibly known that this is where things would end up when he became my tutor all those years ago. He came to me then out of compassion, and that has not changed.”

“Perhaps he could not have known then, but that does not mean that his motives are entirely pure now. If you will not come to stay with my family at our estate, then you really leave me no choice.” He got up from the table and uttered one last phrase before he left her sitting on her own once again.

“I _will_ find him, Christine, and you cannot stop me.”

Suddenly, the realization that she had failed Erik crashed down on her and made it hard to breathe. He had warned her of this _exact_ situation, and still she had failed to adhere to his instruction. In her overwhelming panic, she realized that if Raoul’s newfound motivation culminated in Erik’s capture, it would be entirely her fault.

Nauseous and dizzy, the last things Christine vaguely remembered feeling were the cool hardness of the floor and a crushing sense of dread. Then, a comforting cloud of darkness swallowed her whole as she faded out of consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to those of you who do not enjoy this chapter and were hoping for something different, but it was necessary for character/plot development. Don't hate me?


	24. Has Her Under His Wing

Raoul de Chagny’s self-righteous tendencies had become irreversibly ingrained in his personality starting at infancy. As the youngest son of the de Chagny household, Raoul had always been encouraged and supported in everything he did and tried to do. Unfortunately, it was precisely because of his family’s overindulgent validation that the young Vicomte’s self-awareness inevitably eroded. Over the years, he had genuinely come to believe that everything he chose to do was unquestionably right and good in all senses. This deep-seated belief became the foundation for a complete misunderstanding regarding Christine Daaé’s ardent disagreement on the matter of the masked phantom. In all his years of living, Raoul had never had anyone truly disagree with his decisions, and it was because of this that he could not see Christine’s passionate opposition as stemming from anything other than some sort of villainous intervention.

Raised to believe that he was meant to be a noble hero, the Vicomte saw saving his childhood friend from what he perceived to be the clutches of some diabolical influence as the only viable course of action. Christine could never truly hate him for that because, as a sympathetic person, she understood that Raoul’s actions and beliefs, however misguided, all arose from a greater desire to do the right thing.

Erik, however, was not so lenient in his opinions.

When he had first stumbled upon the scene in the opera house’s dining area earlier that afternoon, Erik had felt his heart stop. He had been wandering about his hidden passageways when he had heard a commotion and decided to investigate its cause. Once he had neared the point where the most voices could be heard, he had snuck out into a shadowed corner of the room and saw something he would likely never forget. Christine, his beloved angel, had been lying face-down and limp on the floor, completely surrounded by fellow cast members and dancers. He had nearly run out of the shadows to take her away before he realized that revealing himself would not have been helpful to either of them. Instead, the Opera Ghost had crept back into the walls and ran to Madame Giry’s office at an unbelievably fast pace. Upon arriving, he wasted no time in demanding that she bring Christine to her office so that she could recover where he could stay by her side. To Erik’s mounting frustration, the Madame had calmly agreed and left the room in an in intentionally unhurried fashion. Restless and helpless, Erik had incessantly paced the small space of her office as he waited for her to return with his pupil.

Now, as Christine lay on the pale pink settee in Madame’s sitting room, Erik continued to pace.

“What the hell happened, Antoinette?” Erik was simultaneously angry, upset, nervous, and desperate.

“I do not know. All that anyone seemed to be able to tell me is that she was having lunch with the Vicomte when she fainted…”

In the blink of an eye, Erik stopped his pacing and and turned to look at the Madame with a countenance that had gone black with rage. “Ah, _le con_! I should have guessed! His lack of good judgement never ceases to amaze me. He truly is such a detestable character, is he not? I should just snap his arrogant little neck. ”

“Watch your tongue! I do not care what you think of him, I will not stand for such foul speech in my office. Besides, we both know that you would never kill him. Christine would never forgive you for that.”

Erik only growled in response. He knew Madame Giry was right, but he didn’t like to admit that the boy had any control over his actions. Instead, he wordlessly recommenced his restless pacing, effectively ending any further discussion, and the Madame returned to her work at her desk.

A little over an hour later, Erik halted mid-step as he saw Christine’s eyes begin to flutter. In an instant, he was down on his knees, lightly running his fingers through her hair and gently whispering her name in her ear.

“Erik…” Christine quietly murmured his name as she gradually regained consciousness. Although he had known she would eventually awaken, Erik couldn’t help but feel tremendous relief wash over him as his cerulean eyes finally made contact with her chocolate ones.

“Mon ange...” He bent down slightly as he placed a gentle kiss on her brow. Christine smiled up at him and started to take in her surroundings. Gradually, as she realized where she was, her smile to faded into a confused frown.

“What happened? Why am I in Madame Giry’s office?”

“Don’t you recall? From what Madame told me, you fainted while having lunch with your precious boy.”

“He’s not–” Christine stopped mid phrase as her mind was flooded with memories of her conversation with her childhood friend. All at once, she became deathly pale, her breathing became erratic, and her eyes went wild with panic. “Oh God, oh God, oh God… No... He’s going to find you. Erik, he’s going to find you and he’s going to arrest you! And he’s not going to stop until he does. Oh Lord… What have I done?” Halfway through her crazed rant, Christine had sat up on the settee in order to fully face Erik, who had become genuinely concerned by her manic behavior. He’d never seen her so worked up.

“Christine, Christine… shhhh. He won’t find me. Everything will be alright. Shhh. Calm down, ma belle.” He cradled her face and looked into her eyes as he spoke gently in attempts to soothe her frayed nerves. He then pulled her into his embrace and pressed a kiss to the top of her curls. She willingly leaned against his body and buried her face in the crook of his neck, nuzzling his pulse. His scent, heartbeat, and warmth did wonders to momentarily calm her anxiety, but as she remembered Raoul’s promise to take him away from her, she began to weep.

“What upsets you so? Please, Christine, I can’t bear to hear you cry.”

After a minute, she sniffled and pulled back far enough to see his face. “I’ve f-failed you. You a-asked for one thing, and I f-failed…” Her bottom lip began to tremble again.

“I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“Ra-Raoul. H-He’s discovered the way I f-feel about you, and he’s convinced th-that it’s all because you’ve tricked and m-manipulated me. He t-tried to get me to leave the opera house, just l-like you said he would, but when I r-refused to go, he told me he had no choice but to go after you.” Christine hiccuped her way through her explanation, and Erik nodded somberly.

“Well, I suppose that’s not entirely unexpected. I think that insolent fool would have eventually set my capture as his number one priority regardless of whether or not he discovered your affections. Do not blame yourself, Christine.”

“Perhaps you're right… But what are we going to do?” Logic and reason were slowly beginning to return as her panic abated.

“Move forward as originally planned. I’ll simply need to be more cautious, and you’ll need to draw less attention.”

“What about Raoul?”

“What about him, Christine? I shan’t stop you from interacting with him if that’s what you wish, though I must admit, it rather shocks me that anyone should desire to share in his pestering presence.”

“That’s not what I meant, Erik, and you know it. What about his renewed determination to find you?”

“As I said, I’ll be more wary, but my plans for Don Juan have not changed. Staging my death continues to be the best way to settle this matter.”

Erik’s cool confidence helped Christine feel more at ease with their situation. She trusted him wholly, and if he thought everything was going to work out, then surely it would. She nodded. “When will I see you?”

“I’m afraid it would be best if we didn’t see each other until the premiere. Trying to meet could put both of us at risk.” Christine’s face instantly fell at his response. She knew he was right, but she so wished she could spend time with him. Yes, Raoul had successfully staved off the worst of her loneliness, but she would always yearn for Erik and his company.

He softly curved his long fingers under her chin and tilted her face back up so that he could look her in the eye. “Two weeks, Christine. You’ll see me again very soon.”

Christine gazed into his beautiful eyes for a moment before throwing herself fully off the settee and into his strong frame. In a matter of seconds, she had her arms around his torso, her face in his shoulder, and her knees on the floor against his.

“Please be careful. I’d never forgive myself if you were caught.”

Erik’s heart swelled at hearing Christine’s concern. “I will be.” He looped his own arms around her waist and buried his nose in her sweet-smelling hair. Holding her in his arms was one of the most painfully exquisite things he had ever known, and he was certain that her unassuming embraces would never cease to surprise him. A pleasant and gentle warmth spread through his chest, and he felt an overwhelming desire to finally tell her that he loved her. And he almost did. However, Erik knew that the present moment wasn't the right one. He’d be damned if he professed his undying love when their future, especially his, remained so blastedly uncertain. When he confessed his feelings to Christine, he wanted to be able to honestly promise her a long life together. Plus, he could definitely choose a better time than now, as Christine’s face was still slicked with tears, and they were still kneeling on Madame Giry’s floor. Indeed, if he had any choice in the matter, he would make it an occasion that Christine would cherish until the end of their days.

Neither of them knew how long they had stayed in their positions, but they quickly separated when they heard Madame Giry discreetly clear her throat as she entered the room. Christine recovered her seat on the settee, and Erik once again got to his feet.

“Ah, my dear, I’m glad you’re awake. How do you feel?”

“I’m fine. Mostly embarrassed, really.” Christine blushed.

“Nonsense. People of the theatre faint all the time. You don’t have the time to feel embarrassed, anyway. While I suggest that you rest for today, tomorrow you’re back to regular rehearsals. We’ve less than two weeks to get this production performance-ready.”

“Yes, Madame.” Christine was quietly thankful for her guardian’s professional attitude.

“Right then, come along. Premiere night will be upon all of us before we know it.”

§ § § § § § § § § § § § §

As usual, Madame Giry was right. After Christine and Erik had exited her guardian’s sitting room that afternoon, time seemed to fly by at unfathomable speeds. Some days went by faster than others, but they all went by quickly, and she couldn’t understand how the first two weeks had dragged on for so long.

Since their disagreement, Christine had, for the most part, stopped seeing Raoul. She had returned to the habit of eating her meals on her own, and her mind had become so preoccupied that she hardly even noticed her lack of company.

Now more than ever, Christine welcomed the peaceful silence that came with eating by herself. Her hands were shaking, her nerves were shot, and her stomach could hardly handle eating anything. The last thing she wanted was to be surrounded by people, especially when they were going to be buzzing with eagerness and excitement. Tonight was the night. Either people would believe his staged death, and Erik would come out of this ordeal completely unscathed; or no one would fall for it, and Erik will have placed himself in a situation of grave danger.

Christine couldn’t believe how _fervently_ she wished and prayed for the former.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that it has taken so long to update, I was in England for the past few weeks.


	25. Point of No Return

Nadir sighed to himself as he sat at the head of an unremarkable horse-drawn carriage, concealed by the dark cover of night. As instructed by his unlikely friend, he had stationed the carriage several meters away from the cellar’s Rue Scribe entrance and had been waiting there for the last twenty minutes. This is where he would be found by a fleeing Erik and perhaps even an accompanying Christine.

Once Nadir had confirmed his friend’s love for the girl, he knew that Erik would eventually decide to give up the Opera Ghost charade. For that reason, he had been rather unsurprised when his masked companion requested assistance in his venture to stage his death and plan a subsequent escape. The morbid way in which Erik had decided to end his tenure as Phantom also failed to surprise the Persian man. In fact, the Opera Ghost faking his own death by ‘dying’ on stage in front of the city’s high society was remarkably fitting. Nadir only hoped that everything went as planned, and that he would soon see a tall, masked figure running in his direction.

“Allah be with us all…” He muttered to the crisp night air.

§ § § § § § § § § § § § §

Erik stood, hidden by shadows backstage, and mentally prepared himself for the moment that was already upon him. In only a matter of minutes, he would be up on stage in front of the people of Paris, silently rejoicing in the recovered presence of Christine and wordlessly fretting about the uncertain outcome of the night.

The gradually increasing silence drove whatever hectic thoughts remained from his mind. This was his cue. The second to last song before intermission had just ended, signaling to Erik that the time to take center stage had arrived. Quietly and efficiently, he worked his way around backstage until he found himself hiding in the right-hand wing. As predicted, the male lead was already there, only a split second from taking the stage. The Phantom snuck up on the boy and pinched a nerve in his neck, causing him to lose consciousness and slump to the floor.

The music picked up once again as the pit began playing the song that he and Christine had chosen to perform. This was it. After all the time spent planning, the moment that would forever change his life had finally arrived.

Right on cue, Christine’s heavenly singing poured out over the audience. For the last several days, Erik’s heart had been beating uncontrollably while his thoughts whirled violently about his head; but at the sound of her voice, his entire being quieted. The pure sound served as a reminder that this was all for _her_ —his muse, his student, his friend, his angel, his _love_. He could never regret doing what he was about to do—regardless of what happened—because in the end, Christine was worth it all. The realization left him feeling oddly at peace. Determined and now reassured, Erik adjusted his costume and mask before gracefully walking on stage.

Christine’s face upon sighting her tutor noticeably changed. While her singing remained steady—something in which Erik took pride—her eyes told an entirely different story. She was somehow overwhelmingly terrified and elated at the same time. Erik did his best at reassuring her with his eyes, trying to communicate that no matter how the night ended, she would be fine.

This unspoken exchange between the two performers went unnoticed by the audience, but the change in male lead certainly did not. Silent murmurs broke out in the crowd as people attempted to identify the man who had taken the stage, and it did not take long for the quiet whispers to become frantic. Everyone seemed to fall into a kind of frenzy, women and men alike looking about wildly as if the answer to their questions would be found somewhere in their surroundings. People began to fidget in their seats, sensing that something was inherently wrong.

Then, Erik began to sing.

The instant that his unfathomable voice was heard, the entirety of the crowd settled into awed silence. It no longer mattered who this strange, unnamed man was. No one, not even the cast and crew of the Opera Populaire, had ever heard a voice quite like the one that was soaring through the theatre in that moment. The complex, ethereal qualities of Erik’s voice placed everyone, excluding Christine, in a trance-like state. This dreamy, dazed state would ultimately provide their window of opportunity. Before his part in the song came to a momentary end, Erik turned to face the back of the theatre and flicked Don Juan’s cape over his shoulder.

§ § § § § § § § § § § § §

Though the gesture would not seem out of place to a casual observer, it served as a signal for Madame Giry to fulfill her part in the plan. With a racing pulse and churning stomach, the ballet mistress ran to box five. It was there that she would find Raoul de Chagny—the man who was intended to pull the trigger and end the phantom’s reign for good.

Madame Giry still wasn’t entirely certain as to why Erik had chosen the French nobleman as the one to ‘end’ his life, but she suspected that it had something to do with providing everyone involved some kind of closure. She only prayed that the Vicomte would react the way Erik intended him to. _It will all be alright. It has to be._ The older woman reassured herself as she made her way to her destination.

Once she arrived, she took a moment to catch her breath before firmly knocking on the door. Within a few seconds, she saw an intense blue eye peeking out at her.

“Madame Giry?” Upon recognizing her, Raoul opened the door fully.

“Monsieur le Vicomte, you must come.” At the sound of Madame Giry’s insistence, Raoul raised a brow. “It’s the Phantom.” His expression changed from inquisitive to undeniably angry with unbelievable speed.

Without speaking, he nodded, quietly stepped out of the box, and shut its door.

“It’s him on stage, isn’t it?” Raoul was following close behind her as she led him to an undisclosed location.

“Yes, monsieur. It is.” Madame took care to answer with as little emotion as possible.

“Hmph.” Raoul huffed. In that moment, it seemed to have dawned on him that they were moving away from the stage. “Where are you taking me? We have to do something about him!”

“Monsieur, please. If you will just follow me, you will find out where we are headed. This is for Christine.” The older woman did not want to get caught in a lie, so she remained as vague as possible while still saying the truth. Raoul nodded in response and stayed silent the during the rest of their relatively short trip.

After climbing up several sets of stairs, Raoul found himself wandering down a large, poorly-lit, dusty corridor. This part of the opera house was one to which Raoul had never been. He was opening his mouth to ask Madame Giry about their intended destination when she paused in front a large wooden door. Swiftly, she pulled out a key, unlocked it, and stood aside to let him walk ahead of her.

After a second’s pause, Raoul strolled past her and into the open room. Inside, he saw something that made him stop mid step. There, propped up against a ledge, was a rifle.

“What is the meaning of this?” Raoul sounded genuinely startled.

“Monsieur, I am sure that you know what rifles are for. This is the best vantage point in the theatre.” The older woman’s voice was level, calm.

“But why? Why do you have this here? Are you suggesting that I shoot the man?”

“Have you not been trying to get rid of him? This is your chance.”

Raoul pondered her response for an unsettlingly long time. Then, without looking at her, he turned towards the ledge and gripped the weighty weapon. He lined his eye up with the barrel and aimed at the man singing on stage. It really was an easy shot. Not a soul stood near the infamous villain, and for the moment, he seemed to be standing still. So why did Raoul hesitate? Why couldn’t he kill this horrible man that caused so many people so much distress?

He clenched his eyes shut. He knew why he couldn’t do it.

The source of his conflict danced in front of him now, sharing the same stage as his sworn enemy. _Christine._ Raoul couldn’t bring himself to kill the man that Christine claimed to love, regardless of whether or not she had truly been manipulated. He would never be able to forgive himself if his dearest friend came to hate him because he stole love from her. _Love_. Raoul believed in that. If for no other reason, Raoul could let this man live because of the warmth and affection that he brought to Christine’s life.

Grudgingly, the young Vicomte admitted to himself that Christine’s teacher, this blasted Phantom of the Opera, had been there for her when he himself could not have been. Huffing out an exasperated breath, Raoul stepped away from the rifle and bowed his head.

“Monsieur?” Madame was beginning to panic. Erik had been certain that Raoul would pull the trigger on his specially engineered gun, and now she didn’t know what she was supposed to do. The rifle wouldn’t actually kill Erik, as he had made it to fire a blank shot, but the young Frenchman had no way of knowing that.

“I… I cannot do it, Madame. It would not do to be rid of him like this. I refuse to let that villain turn me into a coward.” Raoul spoke silently but evenly.

While she felt that she was now truly justified in her near hysteria, she kept a level head—as always. The Vicomte’s admission inspired in her a new kind of respect for him. She had always seen him as a soft and naive kind of boy, and this disproved her prejudice. Nevertheless, his newfound maturity was counterproductive to the ultimate plan. If he didn’t pull the trigger, would Erik want _her_ to do it? She didn’t have very much time to think about her decision.

“Well, Monsieur le Vicomte, while I certainly do appreciate your sense of what is right, someone must do the job. Please, step aside. I will do what you cannot.”

Without letting herself delay any longer, the Madame stepped up and gripped the cool metal of the faulty rifle. After silently saying a quick prayer, she aimed the weapon and pulled the trigger.

§ § § § § § § § § § § § §

The shot rang loud in the theatre.

On stage, Erik stumbled as he gripped the area near his heart, a bright red stain beginning to spread beyond his long, pale fingers. Christine stood silently, hands shaking, as she watched it all happen. Despite the fact that she knew the shot was going to go off at some point, she was still startled by it. However, it was the image of Erik bleeding, fake as it was, that truly horrified her. It was something that she never would have wished to see, though she was certain she would never forget the awful sight. Paralyzed by the scene before her, she stood stock still and failed to even blink an eye.

Almost instantly, however, Christine was snapped out of her paralysis. The opera-goers had all begun to scream in unified terror and reminded her that this performance was not yet over, that she still had a job to do. Looking to her left, her eyes found what she was looking for. With sweaty, shaking hands, Christine ran over to Erik's small hidden lever and pulled it.

Below her, a hidden panel on the floor of the stage flipped open.

Erik, ever-aware of his surroundings, instantly began stumbling back towards the now open hole in the stage. Before disappearing through it, he looked up at Christine. Even amongst all the chaos, panic and uncertainty, Erik found an unshakeable calm in her presence. How impossibly lucky he felt to have the pleasure of knowing Christine Daaé. Her warm, chocolate eyes made contact with his and easily soothed his soul. He had never felt more certain that he would do absolutely anything for her. Then, giving her a discreet nod and a signature half-smirk, he jumped.

To everyone in the audience, it looked like the dying, bleeding man had disappeared.

§ § § § § § § § § § § § §

Outside, Nadir Khan heard quite the commotion. It was done, then. Anxiously, the man rubbed his worn hands together and shifted in his seat. Despite everything, this crazed genius was his dearest companion, and Nadir didn’t like to think about what he would do if Erik didn’t emerge from the building.

“My dear friend, I do hope you know what you’re doing…” The Persian man whispered as he turned to look up at the skies.

Nadir nearly yelped in surprise when he heard a response.

“Dear friend, hmm? Is that what I am to you now, Daroga?”

While Nadir was a bit annoyed to hear Erik joking in this kind of situation, he found comfort in his friend’s usually dry sense of humor. Taking up the carriage's reigns, he smiled to himself as he shook his head.

“Where to, my friend?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long since I last updated, but I promise this story will be finished.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fan fiction ever, and I have no idea what I'm doing. Hopefully, it ends up being worth the read :)


End file.
